Thomas Hardy

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

Thomas Hardy Poems

281. In A Wood 12/31/2002
282. The Self-Unseeing 1/3/2003
283. The Moth-Signal (On Egdon Heath) 4/10/2010
284. I Found Her Out There 4/10/2010
285. The Going 1/3/2003
286. During Wind And Rain 12/31/2002
287. Moments Of Vision 1/3/2003
288. His Visitor 4/10/2010
289. A Christmas Ghost Story. 1/1/2004
290. The Voice 1/3/2003
291. To An Unborn Pauper Child 1/3/2003
292. At Castle Boterel 3/16/2003
293. After A Journey 4/10/2010
294. Song Of Hope 1/4/2003
295. An August Midnight 1/4/2003
296. The Convergence Of The Twain 12/31/2002
297. The Oxen 12/31/2002
298. Neutral Tones 12/31/2002
299. Heredity 1/3/2003
300. A Wife In London (December, 1899) 1/4/2003
301. A Confession To A Friend In Trouble 12/31/2002
302. An Autumn Rain-Scene 1/3/2003
303. When I Set Out For Lyonnesse 1/3/2003
304. Weathers 1/3/2003
305. He Never Expected Much 1/3/2003
306. Beeny Cliff 3/19/2003
307. Nature's Questioning 12/31/2002
308. Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave? 12/31/2002
309. Shelley's Skylark. 1/1/2004
310. I Look Into My Glass 12/31/2002
311. God's Funeral 12/31/2002
312. Hap 12/31/2002
313. A Thunderstorm In Town 1/3/2003
314. Under The Waterfall 1/3/2003
315. In Time Of 'The Breaking Of Nations' 1/3/2003
316. "I Have Lived With Shades" 1/4/2003
317. A Meeting With Despair 12/31/2002
318. "How Great My Grief" (Triolet) 1/4/2003
319. Afterwards 1/3/2003
320. "Between Us Now" 1/4/2003
Best Poem of Thomas Hardy

Drummer Hodge

They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined -- just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest
That breaks the veldt around:
And foreign constellations west
Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the drummer never knew --
Fresh from his Wessex home --
The meaning of the broad Karoo,
The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view
Strange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain
Will Hodge for ever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain
Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellations reign
His ...

Read the full of Drummer Hodge

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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