Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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THE RIDDLE |
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Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||
THE RIDDLE
I
Stretching eyes westOver the sea,
Wind foul or fair,
Always stood she
Prospect-impressed;
Solely out there
Did her gaze rest,
Never elsewhere
Seemed charm to be.
421
II
Always eyes eastPonders she now—
As in devotion—
Hills of blank brow
Where no waves plough.
Never the least
Room for emotion
Drawn from the ocean
Does she allow.
Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||