Poem Thomas Hardy

The Curate’s Kindness

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  A Workhouse Irony

I

    I thought they’d be strangers aroun’ me,
     But she’s to be there!
    Let me jump out o’ waggon and go back and drown me
    At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir.

II

    I thought: “Well, I’ve come to the Union —
     The workhouse at last —
    After honest hard work all the week, and Communion
    O’ Zundays, these fifty years past.

III

    “‘Tis hard; but,” I thought, “never mind it:
     There’s gain in the end:
    And when I get used to the place I shall find it
     A home, and may find there a friend.

IV

    “Life there will be better than t’other.
     For peace is assured.
    THE MEN IN ONE WING AND THEIR WIVES IN ANOTHER
     Is strictly the rule of the Board.”

V

    Just then one young Pa’son arriving
     Steps up out of breath
    To the side o’ the waggon wherein we were driving
     To Union; and calls out and saith:

VI

    “Old folks, that harsh order is altered,
     Be not sick of heart!
    The Guardians they poohed and they pished and they paltered
     When urged not to keep you apart.

VII

    “‘It is wrong,’ I maintained, ‘to divide them,
     Near forty years wed.’
    ‘Very well, sir. We promise, then, they shall abide them
     In one wing together,’ they said.”

VIII

    Then I sank – knew ’twas quite a foredone thing
     That misery should be
    To the end! . . . To get freed of her there was the one thing
     Had made the change welcome to me.

IX

    To go there was ending but badly;
     ‘Twas shame and ’twas pain;
    “But anyhow,” thought I, “thereby I shall gladly
     Get free of this forty years’ chain.”

X

    I thought they’d be strangers aroun’ me,
     But she’s to be there!
    Let me jump out o’ waggon and go back and drown me
     At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir.

The Flirt's Tragedy
John and Jane

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