To A Lady
Offended by a Book of the Writer's
NOW that my page upcloses, doomed, maybe,
Never to press thy cosy cushions more,
Or wake thy ready Yeas as heretofore,
Or stir thy gentle vows of faith in me:
Knowing thy natural receptivity,
I figure that, as flambeaux banish eve,
My sombre image, warped by insidious heave
Of those less forthright, must lose place in thee.
So be it. I have borne such. Let thy dreams
Of me and mine diminish day by day,
And yield their space to shine of smugger things;
Till I shape to thee but in fitful gleams,
And then in far and feeble visitings,
And then surcease. Truth will be truth alway.
Thomas Hardy's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (To A Lady by Thomas Hardy )
Did you read them?
- Masibonisane, senzokhaya umhayi
- namhlanje usuku olukhulu, senzokhaya umhayi
- okuhle, senzokhaya umhayi
- babies and dogs, oskar hansen
- God Could be Never Wrong, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos
- Khalani zinyoni vele nizolibusa, senzokhaya umhayi
- Fever power, hasmukh amathalal
- Inside a tomb, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Sithandwa sami sokuqala, senzokhaya umhayi
- Ngimbonile ufikile uhambile, senzokhaya umhayi