Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
A Watcher’s Regret
J.E.’s Story I slept across the front of the clock, Close to the long case-door; The hours were brought by their brazen knock To my ear as the slow nights wore. Thus did I, she being sick to death, That each hour as it belled Should wake me to rise, and learn by her breath Whether her strength still held. Yet though throughout life’s midnights all I would have watched till spent For her dear sake, I missed the call Of the hour in which she went.
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