Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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THE ROVER COME HOME |
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 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
THE ROVER COME HOME
He's journeyed through America
From Canso Cape to Horn,
And from East Indian Comorin
To Behring's Strait forlorn;
He's felled trees in the backwoods,
In swamps has gasped for breath;
In Tropic heats, in Polar ice,
Has often prayed for death.
From Canso Cape to Horn,
And from East Indian Comorin
To Behring's Strait forlorn;
He's felled trees in the backwoods,
In swamps has gasped for breath;
In Tropic heats, in Polar ice,
Has often prayed for death.
He has fought and bled in civil wars
Of no concern to him,
Has shot his fellows—beasts and men—
At risk of life and limb.
He has suffered fluxes, fevers.
Agues, and ills allied,
And now he's home. You look at him
As he talks by your fireside.
Of no concern to him,
Has shot his fellows—beasts and men—
At risk of life and limb.
He has suffered fluxes, fevers.
Agues, and ills allied,
And now he's home. You look at him
As he talks by your fireside.
767
And what is written in his glance
Stressed by such foreign wear,
After such alien circumstance
What does his face declare?
His mother's; she who saw him not
After his starting year,
Who never left her native spot,
And lies in the churchyard near.
Stressed by such foreign wear,
After such alien circumstance
What does his face declare?
His mother's; she who saw him not
After his starting year,
Who never left her native spot,
And lies in the churchyard near.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |