Time's Laughingstocks and Other Verses by Thomas Hardy
page 9 of 158 (05%)
page 9 of 158 (05%)
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She responded, "Nor could I.
"There are few things I would rather Than be wandering at this spirit-hour--lone-lived, my kindred dead - On this wold of well-known feature I inherit from my father: Night or day, I have no dread . . . "O I wonder, wonder whether Any heartstring bore a signal-thrill between us twain or no? - Some such influence can, at times, they say, draw severed souls together." I said, "Dear, we'll dream it so." Each one's hand the other's grasping, And a mutual forgiveness won, we sank to silent thought, A large content in us that seemed our rended lives reclasping, And contracting years to nought. Till I, maybe overweary From the lateness, and a wayfaring so full of strain and stress For one no longer buoyant, to a peak so steep and eery, Sank to slow unconsciousness . . . How long I slept I knew not, But the brief warm summer night had slid when, to my swift surprise, A red upedging sun, of glory chambered mortals view not, Was blazing on my eyes, From the Milton Woods to Dole-Hill All the spacious landscape lighting, and around about my feet Flinging tall thin tapering shadows from the meanest mound and mole-hill, |
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