Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
In the Marquee
It was near last century’s ending, And, though not much to rate In a world of getting and spending, To her it was great. The scene was a London suburb On a night of summer weather, And the villas had back gardens Running together. Her neighbours behind were dancing Under a marquee; Two violoncellos played there, And violins three. She had not been invited, Although her lover was; She lay beside her husband, Perplexed at the cause. Sweet after sweet quadrille rang: Absence made her weep; The tears dried on her eyelids As she fell asleep. She dreamt she was whirling with him In this dance upon the green To which she was not invited Though her lover had been. All night she danced as he clasped her – That is, in the happy dream The music kept her dreaming Till the first daybeam. ‘O damn those noisy fiddles!’ Her husband said as he turned: ‘Close to a neighbour’s bedroom: I’d like them burned!’ At intervals thus all night-long Her husband swore. But she Slept on, and danced in the loved arms, Under the marquee. Next day she found that her lover, Though asked, had gone elsewhere, And that she had possessed him in absence More than if there.
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