Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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FOUR FOOTPRINTS |
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Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||
FOUR FOOTPRINTS
Here are the tracks upon the sand
Where stood last evening she and I—
Pressed heart to heart and hand to hand;
The morning sun has baked them dry.
Where stood last evening she and I—
Pressed heart to heart and hand to hand;
The morning sun has baked them dry.
I kissed her wet face—wet with rain,
For arid grief had burnt up tears,
While reached us as in sleeping pain
The distant gurgling of the weirs.
For arid grief had burnt up tears,
While reached us as in sleeping pain
The distant gurgling of the weirs.
“I have married him—yes; feel that ring;
'Tis a week ago that he put it on. . . .
A dutiful daughter does this thing,
And resignation succeeds anon!
'Tis a week ago that he put it on. . . .
A dutiful daughter does this thing,
And resignation succeeds anon!
“But that I body and soul was yours
Ere he'd possession, he'll never know.
He's a confident man. ‘The husband scores,’
He says, ‘in the long run’ . . . Now, Dear, go!”
Ere he'd possession, he'll never know.
He's a confident man. ‘The husband scores,’
He says, ‘in the long run’ . . . Now, Dear, go!”
I went. And to-day I pass the spot;
It is only a smart the more to endure;
And she whom I held is as though she were not,
For they have resumed their honeymoon tour.
It is only a smart the more to endure;
And she whom I held is as though she were not,
For they have resumed their honeymoon tour.
Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||