 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
HER TEMPLE
Dear, think not that they will forget you:
—If craftsmanly art should be mine
I will build up a temple, and set you
Therein as its shrine.
—If craftsmanly art should be mine
I will build up a temple, and set you
Therein as its shrine.
They may say: “Why a woman such honour?”
—Be told, “O, so sweet was her fame,
That a man heaped this splendour upon her;
None now knows his name.”
—Be told, “O, so sweet was her fame,
That a man heaped this splendour upon her;
None now knows his name.”
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |