Poems of Thomas Hardy
|322.||When I Set Out for Lyonnesse||1/3/2003|
|323.||Winter in Durnover Field||1/4/2003|
|325.||Wives in the Sere||1/4/2003|
|326.||Your Last Drive||4/10/2010|
|327.||Zermat: To the Matterhorn (June-July, 1897)||1/4/2003|
|328.||Zermatt to the Matterhorn.||1/1/2004|
She, to Him, IV
This love puts all humanity from me;
I can but maledict her, pray her dead,
For giving love and getting love of thee—
Feeding a heart that else mine own had fed!
How much I love I know not, life not known,
Save as some unit I would add love by;
But this I know, my being is but thine own—
Fused from its separateness by ecstasy.