Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
The High-School Lawn
Gray prinked with rose, White tipped with blue, Shoes with gay hose, Sleeves of chrome hue; Fluffed frills of white, Dark bordered light; Such shimmerings through Trees of emerald green are eyed This afternoon, from the road outside. They whirl around: Many laughters run With a cascade’s sound; Then a mere one. A bell: they flee: Silence then: – So it will be Some day again With them, – with me.
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