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A poem by Thomas Hardy

The Little Old table

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Title:     The Little Old table
Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy]

Creak, little wood thing, creak,
When I touch you with elbow or knee;
That is the way you speak
Of one who gave you to me!

You, little table, she brought -
Brought me with her own hand,
As she looked at me with a thought
That I did not understand.

- Whoever owns it anon,
And hears it, will never know
What a history hangs upon
This creak from long ago.

 





-THE END-
Thomas Hardy's poem: The Little Old table

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