Thomas Hardy

I follow at a stranger’s space;His kindred they, his sweetheart I.Unchanged my gown of garish dye,Though sable-sad is their attire;But they stand round with griefless eye,Whilst my regret consumes like fire!

Since Life has ceased to beUpon this globe, now coldAs lunar land and sea,And humankind, and fowl, and furAre gone eternally,All is the same to Thee as ereThey knew mortality.’II‘O Time,’ replied the Lord,‘Thou read’st me ill, I ween;Were all THE SAME, I should not grieveAt that late earthly scene,Now blestly past–though planned by meWith…

That whither his fancy sets him wanderingI, too, alertly go? –Hover and hover a few feet from himJust as I used to do,But cannot answer his words addressed me –Only listen thereto!When I could answer he did not say them:When I could let him knowHow I would like to join in his journeysSeldom he wished…

And calmly, as if indifferent quite,You would close your term here, up and be goneWhere I could not followWith wing of swallowTo gain one glimpse of you ever anon!Never to bid good-byeOr lip me the softest call,Or utter a wish for a word, while ISaw morning harden upon the wall,Unmoved, unknowingThat your great goingHad place…

Who makest Life become, –As though by labouring all-unknowingly,Like one whom reveries numb.How much of consciousness informs Thy willThy biddings, as if blind,Of death-inducing kind,Nought shows to us ephemeral ones who fillBut moments in Thy mind.Perhaps Thy ancient rote-restricted waysThy ripening rule transcends;That listless effort tendsTo grow percipient with advance of days,And with percipience mends.For,…

We should have set us down to wetRight many a nipperkin!But ranged as infantry,And staring face to face,I shot at him as he at me,And killed him in his place.I shot him dead because–Because he was my foe,Just so: my foe of course he was;That’s clear enough; althoughHe thought he’d ‘list, perhaps,Off-hand like–just as I–Was…