Category Thomas Hardy

After the Death of a Friend

You died, and made but little of it!—Why then should I, when called to doff it,Drop, and renounce this worm-holed raiment,Shrink edgewise off from its grey claimant?Rather say, when I am Time-outrun,As you did: Take me, and have done,Inexorable, insatiate…

Yuletide in a Younger World

We believed in highdays then, And could glimpse at night On Christmas EveImminent oncomings of radiant revel— Doings of delight:— Now we have no such sight. We had eyes for phantoms then, And at bridge or stile On Christmas EveClear…

Her Second Husband Hears Her Story

‘Still, Dear, it is incredible to me That here, alone,You should have sewed him up until he died,And in this very bed. I do not seeHow you could do it, seeing what might betide.”Well, he came home one midnight, liquored…

Concerning His Old Home

Mood II wish to see it never— That dismal place With cracks in its floor—I would forget it ever! Mood IITo see it once, that sad And memoried place— Yes, just once more—I should be faintly glad! Mood IIITo see…

The War-Wife of Catknoll

“What crowd is this in Catknoll Street, Now I am just come home?What crowd is this in my old street, That flings me such a glance? A stretcher—and corpse? A sobering sight To greet me, when my heart is light…

Throwing a Tree

The two executioners stalk along over the knolls, Bearing two axes with heavy heads shining and wide, And a long limp two-handled saw toothed for cutting great boles,And so they approach the proud tree that bears the death-mark on its…

The Whaler’s Wife

I never pass that inn ‘The Ring of Bells’Without recalling what its signpost tells To recollection:A tale such as all houses yield, maybe,That ever have known of fealties, phantasy, Hate, or affection.He has come from a whaling cruise to settle…

The Lodging-House Fuchsias

Mrs Master’s fuchsias hungHigher and broader, and brightly swung, Bell-like, more and moreOver the narrow garden-path,Giving the passer a sprinkle-bath In the morning.She put up with their pushful ways,And made us tenderly lift their sprays, Going to her door:But when…

The Three Tall Men

The First Tapping”What’s that tapping at night: tack, tack,In some house in the street at the back?””O, ’tis a man who, when he has leisure,Is making himself a coffin to measure.He’s so very tall that no carpenterWill make it long…

Evening Shadows

The shadows of my chimneys stretch afarAcross the plot, and on to the privet bower,And even the shadows of their smokings show,And nothing says just now that where they areThey will in future stretch at this same hour,Though in my…