A Jog-Trot Pair

Who were the twain that trod this track

So many times together

Hither and back,

In spells of certain and uncertain weather?

Commonplace in conduct they

Who wandered to and fro here

Day by day:

Two that few dwellers troubled themselves to know here.

The very gravel-path was prim

That daily they would follow:

Borders trim:

Never a wayward sprout, or hump, or hollow.

Trite usages in tamest style

Had tended to their plighting.

"It's just worth while,

Perhaps," they had said. "And saves much sad good-nighting."

And petty seemed the happenings

That ministered to their joyance:

Simple things,

Onerous to satiate souls, increased their buoyance.

Who could those common people be,

Of days the plainest, barest?

They were we;

Yes; happier than the cleverest, smartest, rarest.

A quote from a Hardy novel

"Such poor liquor do make a man's throat feel very melancholy - and is a disgrace to the name of stimmilent.” 

(Under the Greenwood Tree)

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