Thomas Hardy

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

She Hears The Storm - Poem by Thomas Hardy

There was a time in former years--
While my roof-tree was his--
When I should have been distressed by fears
At such a night as this!

I should have murmured anxiously,
'The prickling rain strikes cold;
His road is bare of hedge or tree,
And he is getting old.'

But now the fitful chimney-roar,
The drone of Thorncombe trees,
The Froom in flood upon the moor,
The mud of Mellstock Leaze,

The candle slanting sooty-wick'd,
The thuds upon the thatch,
The eaves drops on the window flicked,
The clanking garden-hatch,

And what they mean to wayfarers,
I scarcely heed or mind;
He has won that storm-tight roof of hers
Which Earth grants all her kind.


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Read poems about / on: tree, rain, night, time, fear



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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