 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
520
FINALE
THE COMING OF THE END
How it came to an end!
The meeting afar from the crowd,
And the love-looks and laughters unpenned.
The parting when much was avowed,
How it came to an end!
The meeting afar from the crowd,
And the love-looks and laughters unpenned.
The parting when much was avowed,
How it came to an end!
It came to an end;
Yes, the outgazing over the stream,
With the sun on each serpentine bend.
Or, later, the luring moon-gleam;
It came to an end.
Yes, the outgazing over the stream,
With the sun on each serpentine bend.
Or, later, the luring moon-gleam;
It came to an end.
It came to an end,
The housebuilding, furnishing, planting,
As if there were ages to spend
In welcoming, feasting, and jaunting;
It came to an end.
The housebuilding, furnishing, planting,
As if there were ages to spend
In welcoming, feasting, and jaunting;
It came to an end.
It came to an end,
That journey of one day a week:
(“It always goes on,” said a friend,
“Just the same in bright weathers or bleak;”)
But it came to an end.
That journey of one day a week:
(“It always goes on,” said a friend,
“Just the same in bright weathers or bleak;”)
But it came to an end.
“How will come to an end
This orbit so smoothly begun,
Unless some convulsion attend?”
I often said. “What will be done
When it comes to an end?”
This orbit so smoothly begun,
Unless some convulsion attend?”
I often said. “What will be done
When it comes to an end?”
521
Well, it came to an end
Quite silently—stopped without jerk;
Better close no prevision could lend;
Working out as One planned it should work
Ere it came to an end.
Quite silently—stopped without jerk;
Better close no prevision could lend;
Working out as One planned it should work
Ere it came to an end.
AFTERWARDS
When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
“He was a man who used to notice such things”?
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
“He was a man who used to notice such things”?
If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink,
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
“To him this must have been a familiar sight.”
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
“To him this must have been a familiar sight.”
If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, “He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.”
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, “He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.”
If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
“He was one who had an eye for such mysteries”?
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
“He was one who had an eye for such mysteries”?
And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom,
“He hears it not now, but used to notice such things”?
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom,
“He hears it not now, but used to notice such things”?
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |