The Going

Thomas Hardy

 
Why did you give no hint that night
That quickly after the morrow's dawn,
And calmly, as if indifferent quite,
You would close your term here, up and be gone
     Where I could not follow
     With wing of swallow
To gain one glimpse of you ever anon!
     Never to bid good-bye
     Or lip me the softest call,
Or utter a wish for a word, while I
Saw morning harden upon the wall,
     Unmoved, unknowing
     That your great going
Had place that moment, and altered all.
Why do you make me leave the house
And think for a breath it is you I see
At the end of the alley of bending boughs
Where so often at dusk you used to be;
     Till in darkening dankness
     The yawning blankness
Of the perspective sickens me!
     You were she who abode
     By those red-veined rocks far West,
You were the swan-necked one who rode
Along the beetling Beeny Crest,
     And, reining nigh me,
     Would muse and eye me,
While Life unrolled us its very best.
Why, then, latterly did we not speak,
Did we not think of those days long dead,
And ere your vanishing strive to seek
That time's renewal?  We might have said,
     "In this bright spring weather
     We'll visit together
Those places that once we visited."
     Well, well!  All's past amend,
     Unchangeable.  It must go.
I seem but a dead man held on end
To sink down soon. . . .  O you could not know
     That such swift fleeing
     No soul foreseeing--
Not even I--would undo me so!
 

Poems by This Author

Afterwards by Thomas Hardy
When the Present has latched its postern behind my
An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy
A shaded lamp and a waving blind
At the Entering of the New Year by Thomas Hardy
Our songs went up and out the chimney
At the Piano by Thomas Hardy
A Woman was playing
Channel Firing by Thomas Hardy
That night your great guns, unawares,
During Wind and Rain by Thomas Hardy
They sing their dearest songs
Hap by Thomas Hardy
If but some vengeful god would call to me
Her Father by Thomas Hardy
I met her, as we had privily planned,
How Great My Grief by Thomas Hardy
How great my grief, my joys how few
I Found Her Out There by Thomas Hardy
I found her out there
In the Garden by Thomas Hardy
We waited for the sun
The Convergence of the Twain by Thomas Hardy
In a solitude of the sea
The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy
I leant upon a coppice gate
The Glimpse by Thomas Hardy
She sped through the door
The High-School Lawn by Thomas Hardy
Gray prinked with rose
The Interloper by Thomas Hardy
There are three folk driving in a quaint old chaise
The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy
"Had he and I but met
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock
The Ruined Maid by Thomas Hardy
"O 'Melia, my dear, this does everything crown!
The Subalterns by Thomas Hardy
The Voice by Thomas Hardy
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
The Year's Awakening by Thomas Hardy
How do you know that the pilgrim track
To A Sea-Cliff by Thomas Hardy