Thomas Hardy

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

Thomas Hardy Poems

241. At The Railway Station, Upways 1/3/2003
242. A Circular 4/10/2010
243. The House Of Hospitalities 1/3/2003
244. The Masked Face 1/3/2003
245. At A Hasty Wedding 1/4/2003
246. The Last Chrysanthemum 1/4/2003
247. Men Who March Away 1/3/2003
248. Her Initals 12/31/2002
249. Epitaph On A Pessimist 1/3/2003
250. A Jog-Trot Pair 4/10/2010
251. Domicilium 1/3/2003
252. His Immortality 1/4/2003
253. The Dream-Follower 1/4/2003
254. Last Words To A Dumb Friend 1/3/2003
255. Her Reproach 1/4/2003
256. By The Earth's Corpse 1/4/2003
257. A Week 4/10/2010
258. Moments Of Vision 1/3/2003
259. Tess's Lament 1/4/2003
260. No Buyers 1/3/2003
261. The Farm Woman's Winter 1/3/2003
262. Her Dilemma 12/31/2002
263. Convergence Of The Twain 4/10/2010
264. In The Moonlight 1/3/2003
265. The Impercipient 12/31/2002
266. The Haunter 4/10/2010
267. In Tenebris 1/13/2003
268. The Dead Drummer 1/4/2003
269. Between Us Now 1/3/2003
270. At A Lunar Eclipse 1/4/2003
271. In A Wood 12/31/2002
272. At An Inn 12/31/2002
273. Nature's Questioning 12/31/2002
274. The Dead Man Walking 1/3/2003
275. Her Death And After 12/31/2002
276. A Dream Or No 4/10/2010
277. The Voice 1/3/2003
278. A Poet 4/10/2010
279. God-Forgotten 1/4/2003
280. Shelley's Skylark. 1/1/2004
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"

The Dream-Follower

A dream of mine flew over the mead
   To the halls where my old Love reigns;
And it drew me on to follow its lead:
   And I stood at her window-panes;

And I saw but a thing of flesh and bone
   Speeding on to its cleft in the clay;
And my dream was scared, and expired on a moan,
   And I whitely hastened away.

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