Thomas Hardy

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

Thomas Hardy Poems

1. The Choirmaster's Burial -new- 5/3/2016
2. Before Marching and After 8/31/2015
3. The Pity Of It 4/10/2010
4. The West-Of-Wessex Girl 4/10/2010
5. The Roman Gravemounds 4/10/2010
6. The Telegram 4/10/2010
7. The Respectable Burgher On "The Higher Criticism" 1/4/2003
8. New Year's Eve 12/10/2015
9. Tolerance 4/10/2010
10. The Re-Enactment 4/10/2010
11. The Satin Shoes 4/10/2010
12. The Wistful Lady 4/10/2010
13. The Problem 1/4/2003
14. Rain on a Grave 7/14/2015
15. The Sun On The Bookcase 4/10/2010
16. The Recalcitrants 4/10/2010
17. To Meet, Or Otherwise 4/10/2010
18. The Woman In The Rye 4/10/2010
19. The Fallow Deer At The Lonely House 2/7/2015
20. V.R. 1819-1901, A Reverie 1/4/2003
21. Welcome Home 4/10/2010
22. The Sacrilege: (A Ballad-Tragedy) 4/10/2010
23. The Slow Nature 12/31/2002
24. To A Sea-Cliff 3/16/2015
25. The Sleep-Worker 1/4/2003
26. The Spell Of The Rose 4/10/2010
27. Valenciennes 12/31/2002
28. The Supplanter: A Tale 1/4/2003
29. V.R. 1819-1901 (A Reverie.) 1/1/2004
30. The Stranger's Song 12/31/2002
31. The Rambler 1/3/2003
32. The Walk 4/10/2010
33. Thought Of Ph---A At News Of Her Death 12/31/2002
34. The Selfsame Song 1/3/2003
35. The Puzzled Game-Birds (Triolet) 1/4/2003
36. The Sergeant's Song 12/31/2002
37. The Widow 1/4/2003
38. To Outer Nature 12/31/2002
39. The Temporary The All 12/31/2002
40. The Two Soldiers 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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