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" Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die, Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?... "
The Bourgeois Virtues: Ethics for an Age of Commerce - Сторінка 164
автори: Deirdre Nansen McCloskey - 2010 - 634 стор.
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Lyrical Poetry from Blake to Hardy

Sir Herbert John Clifford Grierson - 1928 - 230 стор.
...that appealed to us in Wessex Poems (1898), in which the same motif of impatience with a world where Crass casualty obstructs the sun and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan, is played upon in a greater variety of tones of which the dominant is rather pity than anger, and anger...
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I Hear America ...: Literature in the United States Since 1900

Vernon Loggins - 1967 - 396 стор.
...element? What will receive them, who will call them home? — Arnold, Empedodes on Etna." How arrive« it joy lies slain, And why unblooms the best hope...and rain, And dicing time for gladness casts a moan. These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. —Hardy, "Hap."...
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American and British Literature since 1890: By Carl van Doren and Mark van ...

Carl van Doren - 1925 - 372 стор.
...of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Power fuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily sown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. In "God-forgotten"...
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A Rhetoric of Irony

Wayne C. Booth - 1974 - 310 стор.
...of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. Thomas Hardy's...
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Thomas Hardy

Lance St John Butler - 1978 - 192 стор.
...of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan .... These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. This poem...
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Critical History of English Literature, Том 1

David Daiches - 1969 - 356 стор.
...more impressive than such superficially appealing utterances of formulated pessimism as, Crass Casulty obstructs the sun and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. Some of Hardy's...
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Portraying Analogy

James F. Ross - 1981 - 266 стор.
...differentiations, frequently paronymy, as in 153 Thomas Hardy's 'Hap', Wessex Poems and Other Verses, 1898: But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why unblooms the best hope ever sown? 'Unblooms' is a paronym of 'blooms' and is used metaphorically of 'hope' as, also, is 'sown' which...
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Standard Deviations: Chance and the Modern British Novel

Leland Monk - 1994 - 212 стор.
...of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. (Vol. 19,...
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The Collected Poems of Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy - 1994 - 978 стор.
...of ire unmerited ; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. 1866. "IN...
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The Wordsworth Book of Sonnets

Masson - 1995 - 228 стор.
...of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I Had willed and meted me the tears I shed. But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, And why...and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan . . . These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. THOMAS HARDY...
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