In A Eweleaze Near Weatherbury

THE years have gathered grayly
  Since I danced upon this leaze
  With one who kindled gayly
  Love's fitful ecstasies!
  But despite the term as teacher,
  I remain what I was then
  In each essential feature
  Of the fantasies of men.

  Yet I note the little chisel
  Of ever-napping Time,
  Defacing ghast and grizzel
  The blazon of my prime.
  When at night he thinks me sleeping,
  I feel him boring sly
  Within my bones, and heaping
  Quaintest pains for by-and-by.

  Still, I'd go the world with Beauty,
  I would laugh with her and sing,
  I would shun divinest duty
  To resume her worshipping.
  But she'd scorn my brave endeavor,
  She would not balm the breeze
  By murmuring, "Thine for ever!"
  As she did upon this leaze.

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Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy, was a Scottish Minister, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland and Professor of Eccesiastical History at Edinburgh University. more…

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"In A Eweleaze Near Weatherbury" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 20 Sep. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/36403/in-a-eweleaze-near-weatherbury>.

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