English poem
Iii
by Thomas Hardy
The Matron mildly asks— A throb in every word— “Our clay-made creatures, lord, How fare they in their mortal tasks Upon Earth’s bounded bord?
Versos English Thomas Hardy Iii
English poem
by Thomas Hardy
The Matron mildly asks— A throb in every word— “Our clay-made creatures, lord, How fare they in their mortal tasks Upon Earth’s bounded bord?