Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
I Was the Midmost
I was the midmost of my world When first I frisked me free, For though within its circuit gleamed But a small company, And I was immature, they seemed To bend their looks on me. She was the midmost of my world When I went further forth, And hence it was that, whether I turned To south, east, west, or north, Beams of an all-day Polestar burned From that new axe of earth. Where now is midmost in my world? I trace it not at all: No midmost shows it here, or there, When wistful voices call ‘We are fain! We are fain!’ from everywhere On Earth’s bewildering ball!
Thomas Hardy’s other poems:
907
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