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643 Works of Thomas Hardy

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WIVES’ LAMENT (November 2, 1899) I O it was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough – Light in their loving as soldiers can be – First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing them Now, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . . II – Rain came down drenchingly; but we unblenchingly Trudged […]

South of the Line, inland from far Durban, A mouldering soldier lies–your countryman. Awry and doubled up are his gray bones, And on the breeze his puzzled phantom moans Nightly to clear Canopus: “I would know By whom and when the All-Earth-gladdening Law Of Peace, brought in by that Man Crucified, Was ruled to be […]

I The thick lids of Night closed upon me Alone at the Bill Of the Isle by the Race {1} – Many-caverned, bald, wrinkled of face – And with darkness and silence the spirit was on me To brood and be still. II No wind fanned the flats of the ocean, Or promontory sides, Or […]

A Wife In London

Story type: Poetry

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(December, 1899) I–THE TRAGEDY She sits in the tawny vapour That the City lanes have uprolled, Behind whose webby fold on fold Like a waning taper The street-lamp glimmers cold. A messenger’s knock cracks smartly, Flashed news is in her hand Of meaning it dazes to understand Though shaped so shortly: He–has fallen–in the far […]

The Dead Drummer

Story type: Poetry

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I They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined–just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around; And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound. II Young Hodge the Drummer never knew – Fresh from his Wessex home – The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam, […]

I At last! In sight of home again, Of home again; No more to range and roam again As at that bygone time? No more to go away from us And stay from us? – Dawn, hold not long the day from us, But quicken it to prime! II Now all the town shall ring […]

The Sick God

Story type: Poetry

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I In days when men had joy of war, A God of Battles sped each mortal jar; The peoples pledged him heart and hand, From Israel’s land to isles afar. II His crimson form, with clang and chime, Flashed on each murk and murderous meeting-time, And kings invoked, for rape and raid, His fearsome aid […]

(The neighbourhood of Leghorn: March, 1887) Somewhere afield here something lies In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trust That moved a poet to prophecies – A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley heard, And made immortal through times to be; – Though it only lived like another bird, And knew not […]

(March, 1887) O epic-famed, god-haunted Central Sea, Heave careless of the deep wrong done to thee When from Torino’s track I saw thy face first flash on me. And multimarbled Genova the Proud, Gleam all unconscious how, wide-lipped, up-browed, I first beheld thee clad–not as the Beauty but the Dowd. Out from a deep-delved way […]

(April, 1887) I traced the Circus whose gray stones incline Where Rome and dim Etruria interjoin, Till came a child who showed an ancient coin That bore the image of a Constantine. She lightly passed; nor did she once opine How, better than all books, she had raised for me In swift perspective Europe’s history […]

(April, 1887) We walked where Victor Jove was shrined awhile, And passed to Livia’s rich red mural show, Whence, thridding cave and Criptoportico, We gained Caligula’s dissolving pile. And each ranked ruin tended to beguile The outer sense, and shape itself as though It wore its marble hues, its pristine glow Of scenic frieze and […]

(1887) I sat in the Muses’ Hall at the mid of the day, And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away, And the chiselled shapes to combine in a haze of sun, Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One. She was nor this nor that of those beings divine, […]

(April, 1887) These numbered cliffs and gnarls of masonry Outskeleton Time’s central city, Rome; Whereof each arch, entablature, and dome Lies bare in all its gaunt anatomy. And cracking frieze and rotten metope Express, as though they were an open tome Top-lined with caustic monitory gnome; “Dunces, Learn here to spell Humanity!” And yet within […]

11-12 P.M. June 27, 1897 (The 110th anniversary of the completion of the “Decline and Fall” at the same hour and place) A spirit seems to pass, Formal in pose, but grave and grand withal: He contemplates a volume stout and tall, And far lamps fleck him through the thin acacias. Anon the book is […]

NEAR THE GRAVES OF SHELLEY AND KEATS (1887) Who, then, was Cestius, And what is he to me? – Amid thick thoughts and memories multitudinous One thought alone brings he. I can recall no word Of anything he did; For me he is a man who died and was interred To leave a pyramid Whose […]

I My ardours for emprize nigh lost Since Life has bared its bones to me, I shrink to seek a modern coast Whose riper times have yet to be; Where the new regions claim them free From that long drip of human tears Which peoples old in tragedy Have left upon the centuried years. II […]

(Spring, 1887) THE BRIDGE OF LODI {1} I When of tender mind and body I was moved by minstrelsy, And that strain “The Bridge of Lodi” Brought a strange delight to me. II In the battle-breathing jingle Of its forward-footing tune I could see the armies mingle, And the columns cleft and hewn III On […]

(June-July, 1897) Thirty-two years since, up against the sun, Seven shapes, thin atomies to lower sight, Labouringly leapt and gained thy gabled height, And four lives paid for what the seven had won. They were the first by whom the deed was done, And when I look at thee, my mind takes flight To that […]

"I Said To Love"

Story type: Poetry

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I said to Love, “It is not now as in old days When men adored thee and thy ways All else above; Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,” I said to Love. I said to him, “We now know more of thee than then; We were […]

The Mother Mourns

Story type: Poetry

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When mid-autumn’s moan shook the night-time, And sedges were horny, And summer’s green wonderwork faltered On leaze and in lane, I fared Yell’ham-Firs way, where dimly Came wheeling around me Those phantoms obscure and insistent That shadows unchain. Till airs from the needle-thicks brought me A low lamentation, As ’twere of a tree-god disheartened, Perplexed, […]