Today's post concludes this collection of Thomas Hardy poems.

However, a new blog

The Thomas Hardy Poetry Path

will begin tomorrow 4th November at

thethomashardypoetrypath.blogspot.com

Satires of Circumstance No15

in 15 glimpses

In the Moonlight

'O lonely workman, standing there

In a dream, why do you stare and stare

At her grave, as no other grave there were?

'If your great gaunt eyes so importune

Her soul by the shine of this corpse-cold moon

Maybe you'll raise her phantom soon!'

'Why, fool, it is what I would rather see

Than all the living folk there be;

But alas, there is no such joy for me!'

'Ah -- she was one you loved, no doubt,

Through good and evil, through rain and drought,

And when she passed, all your sun went out?

'Nay: she was the woman I did not love,

Whom all the others were ranked above,

Whom during her life I thought nothing of.'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.14

in 15 glimpses

Over the Coffin

They stand confronting. the coffin between,

His wife of old, and his wife of late,

And the dead man whose they both had been

Seems listening aloof, as to things past date.

-- I have called,' says the first. 'Do you marvel or not?'

'In truth,' says the second, 'I do -- somewhat.'

'Well, there was a word to be said by me!...

I divorced that man because of you --

It seemed I must do it, boundenly;

But now I am older, and tell you true,

For life is little, and dead lies he;

I would I had let alone you two!

And both of us, scorning parochial ways,

Had lived like the wives in the patriarch's days.

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.13

in 15 glimpses

On the Death-bed

'I'll tell -- being past all praying for --

Then promptly die.... He was out at the war,

And got some scent of the intimacy

That was under way between her and me;

And he stole back home, and appeared like a ghost

One night, at the very time almost

That I reached her house. Well, I shot him dead,

And secretly buried him. Nothing was said.

'The news of the battle came next day;

He was scheduled missing. I hurried away,

Got out there, visited the field,

And sent home word that a search revealed

He was one of the slain; though, lying alone

And stript, his body had not been known.

'But she suspected. I lost her love,

Yea, my hope, of earth, and of Heaven above;

And my time's now come, and I'll pay the score,

Though it be burning for evermore.'

-o0o-

A new blog

Every Day a Discovery on the Net

begins tomorrow 1st November

everydayadiscoveryonthenet.blogspot.com

-o0o- 

Satires of Circumstance No.12

in 15 glimpses

At the Draper's

'I stood at the back of the shop, my dear,
      But you did not perceive me.
Well, when they deliver what you were shown
      I shall know nothing of it, believe me!'
And he coughed and coughed as she paled and said,
      'O, I didn't see you come in there --
Why couldn't you speak?' -- 'Well, I didn't. I left
      That you should not notice I'd been there.
'You were viewing some lovely things. "Soon required
      For a widow, of latest fashion;"
And I knew 'twould upset you to meet the man
      Who had to be cold and ashen
'And screwed in a box before they could dress you
      "In the last new note in mourning,"
As they defined it. So, not to distress you,
I left you to your adorning.'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.11

in 15 glimpses

In the Restaurant

'But hear. If you stay, and the child be born,

It will pass as your husband's with the rest,

While, if we fly, the teeth of scorn

Will be gleaming at us from east to west;

And the child will come as a life despised;

I feel an elopement is ill-advised!'

'O you realize not what it is, my dear,

To a woman! Daily and hourly alarms

Lest the truth should out. How can I stay here

And nightly take him into my arms!

Come to the child no name or fame,

Let us go, and face it, and bear the shame.'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.10

in 15 glimpses

In the Nuptial Chamber

'O That mastering tune?' And up in the bed
Like a lace-robed phantom springs the bride;
'And why?' asks the man she had that day wed,
With a start, as the band plays on outside.
'Its the townsfolks' cheery compliment
Because of our marriage, my Innocent.'

'O but you don't know! 'Tis the passionate air
To which my old Love waltzed with me,
And I swore as we spun that none should share
My home, my kisses, till death, save he!
And he dominates me and thrills me through,
And its he I embrace while embracing you!'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.9

in 15 glimpses

At the Altar Rail

'My bride is not coming, alas!' says the groom,

And the telegram shakes in his hand. 'I own

It was hurried! We met at a dancing-room

When I went to the Cattle-Show alone,

And then, next night, where the Fountain leaps,

And the Street of the Quarter-Circle sweeps.

'Ay, she won me to ask her to be my wife --

'Twas foolish perhaps! -- to forsake the ways

Of the flaring town for a farmer's life.

She agreed. And we fixed it. Now she says:

"It's sweet of you, dear, to prepare me a nest,

But a swift, short, gay life suits me best.

What I really am you have never gleaned;

I had eaten the apple ere you were weaned."'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.8

in 15 glimpses

In the Study

He enters, and mute on the edge of a chair

Sits a thin-faced lady, a stranger there,

A type of decayed gentility;

And by some small signs he well can guess

That she comes to him almost breakfastless.

'I have called -- I hope I do not err --

I am looking for a purchaser

Of some score volumes of the works

Of eminent divines I own, --

Left by my father -- though it irks

My patience to offer them.' And she smiles

As if necessity were unknown;

'But the truth of it is that oftenwhiles

I have wished, as I am fond of art,

To make my rooms a little smart.'

And lightly still she laughs to him,

As if to sell were a mere gay whim,

And that, to be frank, Life were indeed

To her not vinegar and gall,

But fresh and honey-like; and Need

No household skeleton at all.

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.7

in 15 glimpses

Outside the Window

'My stick!' he says, and turns in the lane

To the house just left, whence a vixen voice

Comes out with the firelight through the pane,

And he sees within that the girl of his choice

Stands rating her mother with eyes aglare

For something said while he was there.

'At last I behold her soul undraped!'

Thinks the man who had loved her more than himself;

'My God! -- 'tis but narrowly I have escaped. --

My precious porcelain proves it delf.'

His face has reddened like one ashamed,

And he steals off; leaving his stick unclaimed.

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.6

in 15 glimpses

In the Cemetery

'You see those mother's squabbling there?'

Remarks the man of the cemetery.

'One says in tears, "'Tis mine lies here!"

Another, "Nay, mine, you Pharisee!"

Another, "How dare you move my flowers

And put your own on this grave of ours!"

But all their children were laid therein

At different times, like sprats in a tin.

'And then the main drain had to cross,

And we moved the lot some nights ago,

And packed them away in the general foss

With hundreds more. But their folks don't know,

And as well cry over a new-laid drain

As anything else, to ease your pain!'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.5

in 15 glimpses

At a Watering Place

They sit and smoke on the esplanade,

The man and his friend, and regard the bay

Where the far chalk cliffs, to the left displayed,

Smile sallowly in the decline of day.

And saunterer's pass with laugh and jest --

A handsome couple among the rest.

'That smart proud pair,' says the man to his friend,

'Are to marry next week.... How little he thinks

That dozens of days and nights on end

I have stroked her neck, unhooked the links

Of her sleeve to get at her upper arm....

Well, bliss is in ignorance: what's the harm!'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.4

in 15 glimpses

In the Room of the Bride-Elect

'Would it had been the man of our wish!'

Sighs her mother. To whom with vehemence she

In the wedding-dress -- the wife to be --

'Then why were you so mollyish

As not to insist on him for me!'

The mother, amazed: 'Why, dearest one,

Because you pleaded for this or none!'

'But Father and you should have stood out strong!

Since then, to my cost, I have lived to find

That you were right and that I was wrong;

This man is a dolt to the one declined....

Ah! -- here he comes with his button-hole rose.

Good God -- I must marry him I suppose!'

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.3

in 15 glimpses

By Her Aunt's Grave

'Sixpence a week,' says the girl to her lover,

'Aunt used to bring me, for she could confide

In me alone, she vowed. 'Twas to cover

The cost of her headstone when she died.

And that was a year ago last June;

I've not yet fixed it. But I must soon.

'And where is the money now, my dear?'

'O, snug in my purse... Aunt was so slow

In saving it -- eighty weeks, or near.'...

'Let's spend it,' he hints. 'For she won't know

There's a dance to-night at the Load of Hay.'

She passively nods. And they go that way.

-o0o-

Satires of Circumstance No.2
in 15 glimpses

In Church

'And now to God the Father,' he ends,
And his voice thrills up to the topmost tiles:
Each listener chokes as he bows and bends,
And emotion pervades the crowded aisles.
Then the preacher glides to the vestry-door,
And shuts it, and thinks he is seen no more.

The door swings softly ajar meanwhile,
And a pupil of his in the Bible class,
Who adores him as one without gloss or guile,
Sees her idol stand with a satisfied smile
And re-enact at the vestry-glass

Each pulpit gesture in deft dumb-show

That had moved the congregation so.

-o0o-

This blog will come to an end in a fortnight. Until then, the series Satires of Circumstance will be posted, one poem each day. A new blog of Thomas Hardy poems is now being planned.

-o=0=o-

SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE

in 15 glimpses

At Tea

The kettle descants in a cosy drone,

And the young wife looks in her husband's face,

And then at her guest's, and shows in her own

Her sense that she fills an envied place;

And the visiting lady is all abloom,

And says there was never so sweet a room.

And the happy young housewife does not know

That the woman beside her was first his choice,

Till the fates ordained it could not be so....

Betraying nothing in look or voice

The guest sits smiling and sips her tea,

And he throws her a stray glance yearningly.

-o0o-

This blog will come to an end in a fortnight. Until then, the series Satires of Circumstance will be posted, one poem each day. A new blog of Thomas Hardy poems is now being planned.

-o=0=o-

The Country Wedding

A Fiddler's Story

Little fogs were gathered in every hollow,

But the purple hillocks enjoyed fine weather

As we marched with our fiddles over the heather

- How it comes back! to their wedding that day.

Our getting there brought our neighbours and all, O!

Till, two and two, the couples stood ready.

And her father said: "Souls, for God's sake, be steady!"

And we strung up our fiddles, and sounded out "A."

The groomsman he stared, and said, "You must follow!"

But we'd gone to fiddle in front of the party,

(Our feelings as friends being true and hearty)

And fiddle in front we did all the way.

Yes, from their door by Mill-tail-Shallow,

And up Styles-Lane, and by Front-Street houses,

Where stood maids, bachelors, and spouses,

Who cheered the songs that we knew how to play.

I bowed the treble before her father,

Michael the tenor in front of the lady,

The bass-viol Reub and right well played he! -

The serpent Jim; ay, to church and back.

I thought the bridegroom was flurried rather,

As we kept up the tune outside the chancel,

While they were swearing things none can cancel

Inside the walls to our drumstick's whack.

"Too gay!" she pleaded. "Clouds may gather,

And sorrow come." But she gave in, laughing,

And by supper-time when we'd got to the quaffing

Her fears were forgot, and her smiles weren't slack.

A grand wedding 'twas! And what would follow

We never thought. Or that we should have buried her

On the same day with the man that married her,

A day like the first, half hazy, half clear.

Yes: little fogs were in every hollow,

Though the purple hillocks enjoyed fine weather,

When we went to play 'em to church together,

And carried 'em there in an after year.

-o0o-

The Walk

You did not walk with me

Of late to the hill-top tree

By the gated ways,

As in earlier days;

You were weak and lame,

So you never came,

And I went alone, and I did not mind,

Not thinking of you as left behind.

I walked up there to-day

Just in the former way:

Surveyed around

The familiar ground

By myself again:

What difference, then?

Only that underlying sense

Of the look of a room on returning thence.

-o0o-

Saying Good-Bye 

We are always saying

"Good-bye, good-bye!"

In work, in playing,

In gloom, in gaying:

At many a stage

Of pilgrimage

From youth to age

We say, "Good-bye,

Good-bye!"

We are undiscerning

Which go to sigh,

Which will be yearning

For soon returning;

And which no more

Will dark our door,

Or tread our shore,

But go to die,

To die.

Some come from roaming

With joy again;

Some, who come homing

By stealth at gloaming,

Had better have stopped

Till death, and dropped

By strange hands propped,

Than come so fain,

So fain.

So, with this saying,

"Good-bye, good-bye,"

We speed their waying

Without betraying

Our grief, our fear

No more to hear

From them, close, clear,

Again: "Good-bye,

Good-bye!"

-o0o-

We Sat At The Window

We sat at the window looking out,

And the rain came down like silken strings

That Swithin's day. Each gutter and spout

Babbled unchecked in the busy way

Of witless things:

Nothing to read, nothing to see

Seemed in that room for her and me

On Swithin's day.

We were irked by the scene, by our own selves; yes,

For I did not know, nor did she infer

How much there was to read and guess

By her in me, and to see and crown

By me in her.

Wasted were two souls in their prime,

And great was the waste, that July time

When the rain came down.

-o0o-

A Woman's Fancy

"Ah Madam; you've indeed come back here?

'Twas sad your husband's so swift death,

And you away! You shouldn't have left him:

It hastened his last breath."

"Dame, I am not the lady you think me;

I know not her, nor know her name;

I've come to lodge here a friendless woman;

My health my only aim."

She came; she lodged. Wherever she rambled

They held her as no other than

The lady named; and told how her husband

Had died a forsaken man.

So often did they call her thuswise

Mistakenly, by that man's name,

So much did they declare about him,

That his past form and fame

Grew on her, till she pitied his sorrow

As if she truly had been the cause 

Yea, his deserter; and came to wonder

What mould of man he was.

"Tell me my history!" would exclaim she;

"OUR history," she said mournfully.

"But YOU know, surely, Ma'am?" they would answer,

Much in perplexity.

Curious, she crept to his grave one evening,

And a second time in the dusk of the morrow;

Then a third time, with crescent emotion

Like a bereaved wife's sorrow.

No gravestone rose by the rounded hillock;

"I marvel why this is?" she said.

- "He had no kindred, Ma'am, but you near."

She set a stone at his head.

She learnt to dream of him, and told them:

"In slumber often uprises he,

And says: 'I am joyed that, after all, Dear,

You've not deserted me!"

At length died too this kinless woman,

As he had died she had grown to crave;

And at her dying she besought them

To bury her in his grave.

Such said, she had paused; until she added:

"Call me by his name on the stone,

As I were, first to last, his dearest,

Not she who left him lone!"

And this they did. And so it became there

That, by the strength of a tender whim,

The stranger was she who bore his name there,

Not she who wedded him.

-o0o-