Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
 |
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
|
|
|
|
 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
JUST THE SAME
I sat. It all was past;
Hope never would hail again;
Fair days had ceased at a blast,
The world was a darkened den.
Hope never would hail again;
Fair days had ceased at a blast,
The world was a darkened den.
The beauty and dream were gone,
And the halo in which I had hied
So gaily gallantly on
Had suffered blot and died!
And the halo in which I had hied
So gaily gallantly on
Had suffered blot and died!
I went forth, heedless whither,
In a cloud too black for name:
—People frisked hither and thither;
The world was just the same.
In a cloud too black for name:
—People frisked hither and thither;
The world was just the same.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |