The Faithful Swallow
By Thomas Hardy
When summer shone
it's sweetest on
an August day
'Here Evermore'
I said I'll stay
Not go away
to another shone
as fickle they !
December came :
it was not the same !
I did not know
fidelity
would serve me so
frost, hunger, snow :
and now, oh me,
too late to go!
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar