 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
THE CHURCH AND THE WEDDING
“I'll restore this old church for our marriage:
I've ordered the plans:
Style of wedding your choice—foot or carriage—
By licence, or banns.”
I've ordered the plans:
Style of wedding your choice—foot or carriage—
By licence, or banns.”
He restored it, as though built newly:
The bishop was won
To preach, who pronounced it truly
A thing well done.
The bishop was won
To preach, who pronounced it truly
A thing well done.
But the wedding waits; long, long has waited;
And guesswork is dumb
Why those who were there to have mated
Do not come.
And guesswork is dumb
Why those who were there to have mated
Do not come.
And when the nights moan like the wailings
Of souls sore-tried,
The folk say who pass the church-palings
They hear inside
Of souls sore-tried,
The folk say who pass the church-palings
They hear inside
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Strange sounds as of anger and sadness
That cut the heart's core,
And shaken words bitter to madness;
And then no more.
That cut the heart's core,
And shaken words bitter to madness;
And then no more.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |