Thomas Hardy (2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928 / Dorchester / England)
On Monday night I closed my door,
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
On Wednesday I did not opine
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well,
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind
On Saturday - even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
Poet Other Poems
- "Between Us Now"
- "How Great My Grief" (Triolet)
- "I Have Lived With Shades"
- "I Said to Love"
- [Greek Title]
- A Broken Appointment
- A Christmas Ghost Story.
- A Circular
- A Commonplace Day
- A Confession To A Friend in Trouble
- A Death-Day Recalled
- A Dream Or No
- A Jog-Trot Pair
- A King's Soliloquy [On the Night of His ...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.