 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
AFTER THE BURIAL
The family had buried him,
Their bread-bringer, their best:
They had returned to the house, whose hush a dim
Vague vacancy expressed.
Their bread-bringer, their best:
They had returned to the house, whose hush a dim
Vague vacancy expressed.
There sat his sons, mute, rigid-faced,
His daughters, strained, red-eyed,
His wife, whose wan, worn features, vigil-traced,
Bent over him when he died.
His daughters, strained, red-eyed,
His wife, whose wan, worn features, vigil-traced,
Bent over him when he died.
At once a peal bursts from the bells
Of a large tall tower hard by:
Along the street the jocund clangour swells,
And upward to the sky.
Of a large tall tower hard by:
Along the street the jocund clangour swells,
And upward to the sky.
Probably it was a wedding-peal,
Or possibly for a birth,
Or townsman knighted for political zeal,
This resonant mark of mirth.
Or possibly for a birth,
Or townsman knighted for political zeal,
This resonant mark of mirth.
The mourners, heavy-browed, sat on
Motionless. Well they heard,
They could not help it; nevertheless thereon
Spoke not a single word,
Motionless. Well they heard,
They could not help it; nevertheless thereon
Spoke not a single word,
Nor window did they close, to numb
The bells' insistent calls
Of joy; but suffered the harassing din to come
And penetrate their souls.
The bells' insistent calls
Of joy; but suffered the harassing din to come
And penetrate their souls.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |