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Thomas Hardy.1967. Selected Poems. Collector's Poetry Library. p.46

1967.

In five-score summers! All new eyes,
New minds, new modes, new fools, new wise;
New woes to weep, new joys to prize;

With nothing left of me and you
In that live century’s vivid view
Beyond a pinch of dust or two;

A century which if not sublime,
Will show, I doubt not, at its prime,
A scope above this blinkered time.

-Yet what to me how far above?
For I would only ask thereof
That thy worm should be my worm, Love!

© Павел Кричевский