Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
We Field-Women
How it rained When we worked at Flintcomb-Ash, And could not stand upon the hill Trimming swedes for the slicing-mill. The wet washed through us – plash, plash, plash: How it rained! How it snowed When we crossed from Flintcomb-Ash To the Great Barn for drawing reed, Since we could nowise chop a swede. – Flakes in each doorway and casement-sash: How it snowed! How it shone When we went from Flintcomb-Ash To start at dairywork once more In the laughing meads, with cows three-score, And pails, and songs, and love – too rash: How it shone!
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