English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Her Love-Birds. Томас Гарди (Харди).

Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Her Love-Birds

When I looked up at my love-birds
That Sunday afternoon,
There was in their tiny tune
A dying fetch like broken words,
When I looked up at my love-birds
That Sunday afternoon.

When he, too, scanned the love-birds
On entering there that day,
’Twas as if he had nought to say
Of his long journey citywards,
When he, too, scanned the love-birds,
On entering there that day.

And billed and billed the love-birds,
As ’twere in fond despair
At the stress of silence where
Had once been tones in tenor thirds,
And billed and billed the love-birds
As ’twere in fond despair.

O, his speech that chilled the love-birds,
And smote like death on me,
As I learnt what was to be,
And knew my life was broke in sherds!
O, his speech that chilled the love-birds,
And smote like death on me!

Thomas Hardy’s other poems:

1. I Thought, My Heart
2. The Two Houses
3. The Nettles
4. The Inscription
5. The Weary Walker

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