 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
THE OPPORTUNITY
(FOR H. P.)
Forty springs back, I recall,
We met at this phase of the Maytime:
We might have clung close through all,
But we parted when died that daytime.
We met at this phase of the Maytime:
We might have clung close through all,
But we parted when died that daytime.
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We parted with smallest regret;
Perhaps should have cared but slightly,
Just then, if we never had met:
Strange, strange that we lived so lightly!
Perhaps should have cared but slightly,
Just then, if we never had met:
Strange, strange that we lived so lightly!
Had we mused a little space
At that critical date in the Maytime,
One life had been ours, one place,
Perhaps, till our long cold claytime.
At that critical date in the Maytime,
One life had been ours, one place,
Perhaps, till our long cold claytime.
—This is a bitter thing
For thee, O man: what ails it?
The tide of chance may bring
Its offer; but nought avails it!
For thee, O man: what ails it?
The tide of chance may bring
Its offer; but nought avails it!
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |