Thomas Hardy

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

Thomas Hardy Poems

241. The Missed Train 4/10/2010
242. The Moon Looks In 4/10/2010
243. The Mother Mourns 1/1/2004
244. The Moth-Signal (On Egdon Heath) 4/10/2010
245. The Newcomer's Wife 4/10/2010
246. The Night Of Trafalgar 4/10/2010
247. The Obliterate Tomb 4/10/2010
248. The Oxen 12/31/2002
249. The Peasent's Confession 12/31/2002
250. The Phantom Horsewoman. 1/1/2004
251. The Pity Of It 4/10/2010
252. The Pity Of It 1/3/2003
253. The Problem 1/4/2003
254. The Puzzled Game-Birds (Triolet) 1/4/2003
255. The Rambler 1/3/2003
256. The Recalcitrants 4/10/2010
257. The Re-Enactment 4/10/2010
258. The Respectable Burgher On "The Higher Criticism" 1/4/2003
259. The Roman Gravemounds 4/10/2010
260. The Roman Road 1/3/2003
261. The Ruined Maid 1/3/2003
262. The Sacrilege: (A Ballad-Tragedy) 4/10/2010
263. The Satin Shoes 4/10/2010
264. The Seasons Of Her Year 1/4/2003
265. The Selfsame Song 1/3/2003
266. The Self-Unseeing 1/3/2003
267. The Sergeant's Song 12/31/2002
268. The Shadow On The Stone 4/10/2010
269. The Sick God 1/4/2003
270. The Sleep-Worker 1/4/2003
271. The Slow Nature 12/31/2002
272. The Souls Of The Slain. 1/1/2004
273. The Spell Of The Rose 4/10/2010
274. The Stranger's Song 12/31/2002
275. The Subalterns 1/3/2003
276. The Sun On The Bookcase 4/10/2010
277. The Sun On The Bookcase 1/3/2003
278. The Superseded 1/4/2003
279. The Supplanter: A Tale 1/4/2003
280. The Sweet Hussy 4/10/2010
Best Poem of Thomas Hardy

"I Said To Love"

I said to Love,
"It is not now as in old days
When men adored thee and thy ways
   All else above;
Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One
Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,"
   I said to Love.

   I said to him,
"We now know more of thee than then;
We were but weak in judgment when,
   With hearts abrim,
We clamoured thee that thou would'st please
Inflict on us thine agonies,"
   I said to him.

   I said to Love,
"Thou art not young, ...

Read the full of "I Said To Love"

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.

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