Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
278
UNREALIZED
Down comes the winter rain—
Spoils my hat and bow—
Runs into the poll of me;
But mother won't know.
Spoils my hat and bow—
Runs into the poll of me;
But mother won't know.
We've been out and caught a cold,
Knee-deep in snow;
Such a lucky thing it is
That mother won't know!
Knee-deep in snow;
Such a lucky thing it is
That mother won't know!
Rosy lost herself last night—
Couldn't tell where to go.
Yes—it rather frightened her,
But mother didn't know.
Couldn't tell where to go.
Yes—it rather frightened her,
But mother didn't know.
Somebody made Willy drunk
At the Christmas show:
O 'twas fun! It's well for him
That mother won't know!
At the Christmas show:
O 'twas fun! It's well for him
That mother won't know!
Howsoever wild we are,
Late at school or slow,
Mother won't be cross with us
Mother won't know.
Late at school or slow,
Mother won't be cross with us
Mother won't know.
How we cried the day she died!
Neighbours whispering low . . .
But we now do what we will—
Mother won't know.
Neighbours whispering low . . .
But we now do what we will—
Mother won't know.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |