Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
Why Do I?
Why do I go on doing these things? Why not cease? Is it that you are yet in this world of welterings And unease, And that, while so, mechanic repetitions please? When shall I leave off doing these things? – When I hear You have dropped your dusty cloak and taken you wondrous wings To another sphere, Where no pain is: Then shall I hush this dinning gear.
Thomas Hardy’s other poems:
