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…
Search Results for: Thomas Hardy
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Song From Heine
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…
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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…
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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…