English poem
Ix
by Thomas Hardy
So now, the remedy? Yea, this: I gently swing the door Here, of my fane—no soul to wis— And cross the patterned floor To the rood-screen That stands between The nave and inner chore.
Versos English Thomas Hardy Ix
Versos English Thomas Hardy Ix
English poem
by Thomas Hardy
So now, the remedy? Yea, this: I gently swing the door Here, of my fane—no soul to wis— And cross the patterned floor To the rood-screen That stands between The nave and inner chore.