 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
SQUIRE HOOPER
Hooper was ninety. One September dawn
He sent a messenger
For his physician, who asked thereupon
What ailed the sufferer
Which he might circumvent, and promptly bid begone.
He sent a messenger
For his physician, who asked thereupon
What ailed the sufferer
Which he might circumvent, and promptly bid begone.
“Doctor, I summoned you,” the squire replied—
“Pooh-pooh me though you may—
To ask what's happened to me—burst inside,
It seems—not much, I'd say—
But awkward with a house-full here for a shoot to-day.”
“Pooh-pooh me though you may—
To ask what's happened to me—burst inside,
It seems—not much, I'd say—
But awkward with a house-full here for a shoot to-day.”
And he described the symptoms. With bent head
The listener looked grave.
“H'm. . . . You're a dead man in six hours,” he said.—
“I speak out, since you are brave—
And best 'tis you should know, that last things may be sped.”
The listener looked grave.
“H'm. . . . You're a dead man in six hours,” he said.—
“I speak out, since you are brave—
And best 'tis you should know, that last things may be sped.”
“Right,” said the squire. “And now comes—what to do?
One thing: on no account
Must I now spoil the sport I've asked them to—
My guests are paramount—
They must scour scrub and stubble; and big bags bring as due.”
One thing: on no account
Must I now spoil the sport I've asked them to—
My guests are paramount—
They must scour scrub and stubble; and big bags bring as due.”
He downed to breakfast, and bespoke his guests:—
“I find I have to go
An unexpected journey, and it rests
With you, my friends, to show
The shoot can go off gaily, whether I'm there or no.”
“I find I have to go
An unexpected journey, and it rests
With you, my friends, to show
The shoot can go off gaily, whether I'm there or no.”
843
Thus blandly spoke he; and to the fields they went,
And Hooper up the stair.
They had a glorious day; and stiff and spent
Returned as dusk drew near.—
“Gentlemen,” said the doctor, “he's not back as meant,
And Hooper up the stair.
They had a glorious day; and stiff and spent
Returned as dusk drew near.—
“Gentlemen,” said the doctor, “he's not back as meant,
To his deep regret!”—So they took leave, each guest
Observing: “I dare say
Business detains him in the town: 'tis best
We should no longer stay
Just now. We'll come again anon”; and they went their way.
Observing: “I dare say
Business detains him in the town: 'tis best
We should no longer stay
Just now. We'll come again anon”; and they went their way.
Meeting two men in the obscurity
Shouldering a box a thin
Cloth-covering wrapt, one sportsman cried: “Damn me,
I thought them carrying in,
At first, a coffin; till I knew it could not be.”
Shouldering a box a thin
Cloth-covering wrapt, one sportsman cried: “Damn me,
I thought them carrying in,
At first, a coffin; till I knew it could not be.”
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |