Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
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She did not turn, But passed foot-faint with averted head In her gown of green, by the bobbing fern, Though I leaned over the gate that led From where we waited with table spread; But she did not turn: Why was she near there if love had fled? She did not turn, Though the gate was whence I had often sped In the mists of morning to meet her, and learn Her heart, when its moving moods I read As a book – she mine, as she sometimes said; But she did not turn, And passed foot-faint with averted head.
Thomas Hardy’s other poems:
937