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A poem by Thomas Hardy

End of the Year 1912

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Title:     End of the Year 1912
Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy]

You were here at his young beginning,
You are not here at his aged end;
Off he coaxed you from Life's mad spinning,
Lest you should see his form extend
Shivering, sighing,
Slowly dying,
And a tear on him expend.

So it comes that we stand lonely
In the star-lit avenue,
Dropping broken lipwords only,
For we hear no songs from you,
Such as flew here
For the new year
Once, while six bells swung thereto.

 

 




-THE END-
Thomas Hardy's poem: End of the Year 1912

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