Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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GREEN SLATES
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Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||
GREEN SLATES
(PENPETHY)
It happened once, before the duller
Loomings of life defined them,
I searched for slates of greenish colour
A quarry where men mined them;
Loomings of life defined them,
I searched for slates of greenish colour
A quarry where men mined them;
And saw, the while I peered around there,
In the quarry standing
A form against the slate background there,
Of fairness eye-commanding.
In the quarry standing
A form against the slate background there,
Of fairness eye-commanding.
And now, though fifty years have flown me,
With all their dreams and duties,
And strange-pipped dice my hand has thrown me,
And dust are all her beauties,
With all their dreams and duties,
And strange-pipped dice my hand has thrown me,
And dust are all her beauties,
Green slates—seen high on roofs, or lower
In waggon, truck, or lorry—
Cry out: “Our home was where you saw her
Standing in the quarry!”
In waggon, truck, or lorry—
Cry out: “Our home was where you saw her
Standing in the quarry!”
Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ||