Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
Lady Vi
There goes the Lady Vi. How well, How well I know the spectacle The earth presents And its events To her sweet sight Each day and night! ‘Life is a wheeling show, with me As its pivot of interest constantly. Below in the hollows of towns is sin, Like a blue brimstone mist therein, Which makes men lively who plunge amid it, But wrongfully, and wives forbid it. London is a place for prancing Along the Row and, later, dancing Till dawn, with tightening arm-embowments As hours warm up to tender moments. ‘Travel is piquant, and most thrilling If, further, joined to big-game killing: At home, too, hunting, hounds full cry, When Reynard nears his time to die, ’Tis glee to mark his figure flag, And how his brush begins to drag, Till, his earth reached by many a wend, He finds it stopped, and meets his end. ‘Religion is good for all who are meek; It stays in the Bible through the week, And floats about the house on Sundays, But does not linger on till Mondays. The ten Commandments in one’s prime Are matter for another time, While griefs and graves and things allied In well-bred talk one keeps outside.’
Thomas Hardy’s other poems:
