Tác giả: Thomas Hardy -Nhà Giáo Lam Hồng chuyển ngữ
THE DARKLING THRUSH
By Thomas Hardy
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires. Continue reading