Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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THE PAT OF BUTTER |
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![]() | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ![]() |
THE PAT OF BUTTER
Once, at the Agricultural Show,
We tasted—all so yellow—
Those butter-pats, cool and mellow!
Each taste I still remember, though
It was so long ago.
We tasted—all so yellow—
Those butter-pats, cool and mellow!
Each taste I still remember, though
It was so long ago.
768
This spoke of the grass of Netherhay,
And this of Kingcomb Hill,
And this of Coker Rill:
Which was the prime I could not say
Of all those tried that day,
And this of Kingcomb Hill,
And this of Coker Rill:
Which was the prime I could not say
Of all those tried that day,
Till she, the fair and wicked-eyed,
Held out a pat to me:
Then felt I all Yeo-Lea
Was by her sample sheer outvied;
And, “This is the best,” I cried.
Held out a pat to me:
Then felt I all Yeo-Lea
Was by her sample sheer outvied;
And, “This is the best,” I cried.
![]() | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | ![]() |