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Hardy, Thomas: Christmastide

Portre of Hardy, Thomas

Christmastide (English)

The rain-shafts splintered on me
     As despondently I strode;
The twilight gloomed upon me
     And bleared the blank high-road.
Each bush gave forth, when blown on
     By gusts in shower and shower,
A sigh, as it were sown on
     In handfuls by a sower.

A cheerful voice called, nigh me,
     "A merry Christmas, friend!" --
There rose a figure by me,
     Walking with townward trend,
A sodden tramp's, who, breaking
     Into thin song, bore straight
Ahead, direction taking
     Toward the Casuals' gate.



Uploaded byFűri Mária
Source of the quotationhttp://firstknownwhenlost.blogspot.com/ 2014/12/christmastide.html?m=1

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