The Night of the Dance

The cold moon hangs to the sky by its horn,

And centres its gaze on me;

The stars, like eyes in reverie,

Their westering as for a while forborne,

Quiz downward curiously.

Old Robert draws the backbrand in,

The green logs steam and spit;

The half-awakened sparrows flit

From the riddled thatch; and owls begin

To whoo from the gable-slit.

Yes; far and nigh things seem to know

Sweet scenes are impending here;

That all is prepared; that the hour is near

For welcomes, fellowships, and flow

Of sally, song, and cheer;

That spigots are pulled and viols strung;

That soon will arise the sound

Of measures trod to tunes renowned;

That She will return in Love's low tongue

My vows as we wheel around.

A quote from a Hardy novel

“My dear Sue,—Of course I wish you joy! And also of course I will give you away. What I suggest is that, as you have no house of your own, you do not marry from your school friend's, but from mine. It would be more proper, I think, since I am, as you say, the person nearest related to you in this part of the world. I don't see why you sign your letter in such a new and terribly formal way? Surely you care a bit about me still!—Ever your affectionate, Jude.” (Jude the Obscure)

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