 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
WELCOME HOME
Back to my native place
Bent upon returning,
Bosom all day burning
To be where my race
Well were known, 'twas keen with me
There to dwell in amity.
Bent upon returning,
Bosom all day burning
To be where my race
Well were known, 'twas keen with me
There to dwell in amity.
Folk had sought their beds,
But I hailed: to view me
Under the moon, out to me
Several pushed their heads,
And to each I told my name,
Plans, and that therefrom I came.
But I hailed: to view me
Under the moon, out to me
Several pushed their heads,
And to each I told my name,
Plans, and that therefrom I came.
543
“Did you? . . . Ah, 'tis true,”
Said they, “back a long time,
Here had spent his young time,
Some such man as you . . .
Good-night.” The casement closed again,
And I was left in the frosty lane.
Said they, “back a long time,
Here had spent his young time,
Some such man as you . . .
Good-night.” The casement closed again,
And I was left in the frosty lane.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |