Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the roseate wine.
For loud acclaim he does not care
By the august or rich or fair,
Nor for smart pilgrims from afar,
Curious on where his hauntings are.
But soon or later, when you hear
That he has doffed this wrinkled gear,
Some evening, at the first star-ray,
Come to his graveside, pause and say:
'Whatever his message his to tell
Two thoughtful women loved him well.'
Stand and say that amid the dim:
It will be praise enough for him.
Thomas Hardy's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Poet by Thomas Hardy )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- A BROKEN DREAM حلم مئطوش - حلم مكسور, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Valentine, mary douglas
- Remembering Her Worth, F. J. Thomas
- Tunnels, Mark Arvizu
- Stop, Is It Poetry
- O virgin chic..., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- गु बाजिबाय, Ronjoy Brahma
- A sense of destiny, Mark Heathcote
- Love Is In The Air, Johnny Goyena
- A knight errant!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL