They bear him to his resting-place–In slow procession sweeping by;I follow at a stranger’s space;His kindred they, his sweetheart I.Unchanged my gown of garish dye,Though sable-sad is their attire;But they stand round with griefless eye,Whilst my regret consumes like fire! Thomas Hardy 1840 – 1928 *** Funérailles On l’emporte à son dernier repos,le lent cortège se...
I scanned her picture dreaming,Till each dear line and hueWas imaged, to my seeming,As if it lived anew.
Her lips began to borrowTheir former wondrous smile;Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow,Grew sparkling as erstwhile.
Such tears as often ran notRan then, my love, for thee;And O, believe I cannotThat thou are lost to me!
Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928)
Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928) (A Reminiscence, 1893) She wore a ‘terra-cotta’ dress, And we stayed, because of the pelting storm, Within the hansom’s dry recess, Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless We sat on, snug and warm. Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain,And the glass that had screened our forms beforeFlew up, and out she sprang to her door:I should have...
Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928) « Si seulement nous nous étions rencontrésPrès de quelque vieille auberge,Nous nous serions assis pour prendre ensembleQuelques petits verres ! « Mais en position de fantassin,Nous observant face à face,J’ai tiré sur lui, lui sur moi,Et je l’ai tué net. « Je l’ai abattu parce que –Parce que c’était mon ennemi,C’est ca : il était bien mon ennemi ;C’est assez...