Thomas Hardy

(2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928 / Dorchester / England)

She Charged Me


She charged me with having said this and that
To another woman long years before,
In the very parlour where we sat, -


Sat on a night when the endless pour
Of rain on the roof and the road below
Bent the spring of the spirit more and more….


- So charged she me; and the Cupids bow
Of her mouth was hard, and her eyes, and her face,
And her white forefinger lifted slow.


Had she done it gently, or shown a trace
That not too curiously would she view
A folly passed ere her reign had place,


A kiss might have ended it. But I knew
From the fall of each word, and the pause between,
That the curtain would drop upon us two
Ere long, in our play of slave and queen.

Submitted: Saturday, April 10, 2010

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