Time's Laughingstocks and Other Verses by Thomas Hardy
page 57 of 158 (36%)
page 57 of 158 (36%)
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Than thoroughfares of stones.
THE SIGH Little head against my shoulder, Shy at first, then somewhat bolder, And up-eyed; Till she, with a timid quaver, Yielded to the kiss I gave her; But, she sighed. That there mingled with her feeling Some sad thought she was concealing It implied. - Not that she had ceased to love me, None on earth she set above me; But she sighed. She could not disguise a passion, Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion If she tried: Nothing seemed to hold us sundered, Hearts were victors; so I wondered Why she sighed. Afterwards I knew her throughly, |
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