Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
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![]() | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ![]() |
THE THING UNPLANNED
The white winter sun struck its stroke on the bridge,
The meadow-rills rippled and gleamed
As I left the thatched post-office, just by the ridge,
And dropped in my pocket her long tender letter,
With: “This must be snapped! it is more than it seemed;
And now is the opportune time!”
The meadow-rills rippled and gleamed
As I left the thatched post-office, just by the ridge,
And dropped in my pocket her long tender letter,
With: “This must be snapped! it is more than it seemed;
And now is the opportune time!”
But against what I willed worked the surging sublime
Of the thing that I did—the thing better!
Of the thing that I did—the thing better!
![]() | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ![]() |