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A Circular

As ‘legal representative’I read a missive not my own,On new designs the senders give    For clothes, in tints as shown. Here figure blouses, gowns for tea,And presentation-trains of state,Charming ball-dresses, millinery,    Warranted up to date. And this gay-pictured,…

His Visitor

I come across from Mellstock while the moon wastes weakerTo behold where I lived with you for twenty years and more:I shall go in the gray, at the passing of the mail-train,And need no setting open of the long familiar…

The Voice

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was…

The Haunter

He does not think that I haunt here nightly :    How shall I let him know That whither his fancy sets him wandering    I, too, alertly go?— Hover and hover a few feet from him    Just as I used to…

Lament

How she would have lovedA party to-day! —Bright-hatted and gloved,With table and trayAnd chairs on the lawnHer smiles would have shoneWith welcomings…. ButShe is shut, she is shut        From friendship’s spell        In the jailing…

Without Ceremony

It was your way, my dear,To be gone without a wordWhen callers, friends, or kinHad left, and I hastened inTo rejoin you, as I inferred. And when you’d a mind to careerOff anywhere — say to town —You were all…

I Found Her Out There

I found her out there On a slope few see, That falls westwardly To the salt-edged air, Where the ocean breaks On the purple strand, And the hurricane shakes The solid land. I brought her here, And have laid her…

Rain on a Grave

Clouds spout upon her   Their waters amain   In ruthless disdain, – Her who but lately   Had shivered with pain As at touch of dishonour If there had lit on her So coldly, so straightly   Such arrows…

The Walk

You did not walk with meOf late to the hill-top tree     As in earlier days,     By the gated ways:     You were weak and lame,     So you never came,And I went alone, and I did not mind,Not…

Your Last Drive

Here by the moorway you returned, And saw the borough lights ahead That lit your face—all undiscerned To be in a week the face of the dead, And you told of the charm of that haloed view That never again…