 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
LORNA THE SECOND
Lorna! Yes, you are sweet,But you are not your mother,
Lorna the First, frank, feat,
Never such another!—
Love of her could smother
Griefs by day or night;
Nor could any other,
Lorna, dear and bright,
Ever so well adorn a
Mansion, coach, or cot,
Or so make men scorn a
Rival in their sight;
Even you could not!
Hence I have to mourn a
Loss ere you were born; a Lorna!
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |