Thomas Hardy

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

Thomas Hardy Poems

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 The Superseded 1/4/2003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