 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
THE VOICE OF THE THORN
I
When the thorn on the downQuivers naked and cold,
And the mid-aged and old
Pace the path there to town,
In these words dry and drear
It seems to them sighing:
“O winter is trying
To sojourners here!”
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II
When it stands fully tressedOn a hot summer day,
And the ewes there astray
Find its shade a sweet rest,
By the breath of the breeze
It inquires of each farer:
“Who would not be sharer
Of shadow with these?”
III
But by day or by night,And in winter or summer,
Should I be the comer
Along that lone height,
In its voicing to me
Only one speech is spoken:
“Here once was nigh broken
A heart, and by thee.”
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |