 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
AT MOONRISE AND ONWARDS
I thought you a fire
On Heath-Plantation Hill,
Dealing out mischief the most dire
To the chattels of men of hire
There in their vill.
On Heath-Plantation Hill,
Dealing out mischief the most dire
To the chattels of men of hire
There in their vill.
But by and by
You turned a yellow-green,
Like a large glow-worm in the sky;
And then I could descry
Your mood and mien.
You turned a yellow-green,
Like a large glow-worm in the sky;
And then I could descry
Your mood and mien.
How well I know
Your furtive feminine shape!
As if reluctantly you show
You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw
Aside its drape . . . .
Your furtive feminine shape!
As if reluctantly you show
You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw
Aside its drape . . . .
—How many a year
Have you kept pace with me,
Wan Woman of the waste up there
Behind a hedge, or the bare
Bough of a tree!
Have you kept pace with me,
Wan Woman of the waste up there
Behind a hedge, or the bare
Bough of a tree!
537
No novelty are you,
O Lady of all my time,
Veering unbid into my view
Whether I near Death's mew,
Or Life's top cyme!
O Lady of all my time,
Veering unbid into my view
Whether I near Death's mew,
Or Life's top cyme!
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |