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This etext was prepared by David Price, email
[email protected]
,
from the 1919 Macmillan and Co edition.
SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE WITH MISCELLANEOUS
PIECES
by Thomas Hardy
Contents:
Lyrics and Reveries
In Front of the Landscape
Channel Firing
The Convergence of the
Twain
The Ghost of the Past
After the Visit
To Meet, or
Otherwise
The Difference
The Sun on the Bookcase
"When I set
out for Lyonnesse"
A Thunderstorm in Town
The Torn Letter
Beyond the Last Lamp
The Face at the Casement
Lost Love
"My
spirit will not haunt the mound"
"Wessex Heights
In Death divided
The Place on the Map
Where the Picnic was
The Schreckhorn
A Singer asleep
A Plaint to Man
God's Funeral
Spectres that
grieve
"Ah, are you digging on my grave?"
Satires of Circumstance
At Tea
In Church
By her Aunt's Grave
In the Room of the
Bride-elect
At the Watering-place
In the Cemetery
Outside the
Window
In the Study
At the Altar-rail
In the Nuptial Chamber
In the Restaurant
At the Draper's
On the Death-bed
Over the
Coffin
In the Moonlight
Self-unconscious
The Discovery
Tolerance
Before and after Summer
At Day-close in November
The Year's Awakening
Under the Waterfall
The Spell of the Rose
St. Launce's revisited
Poems of 1912-13-
The Going
Your Last Drive
The Walk
Rain on a Grace
"I found
her out there"
Without Ceremony
Lament
The Haunter
The
Voice
His Visitor
A Circular
A Dream or No
After a Journey
A Death-ray recalled
Beeny Cliff
At Castle Boterel
Places
The
Phantom Horsewoman
Miscellaneous Pieces
The Wistful Lady
The Woman in the Rye
The Cheval-Glass
The
Re-enactment
Her Secret
"She charged me"
The Newcomer's
Wife
A Conversation at Dawn
A King's Soliloquy
The
Coronation
Aquae Sulis
Seventy-four and Twenty
The Elopement
"I rose up as my custom is"
A Week
Had you wept
Bereft, she
thinks she dreams
In the British Museum
In the Servants' Quarters
The Obliterate Tomb
"Regret not me"
The Recalcitrants
Starlings on the Roof
The Moon looks in
The Sweet Hussy
The
Telegram
The Moth-signal
Seen by the Waits
The Two Soldiers
The Death of Regret
In the Days of Crinoline
The Roman
Gravemounds
The Workbox
The Sacrilege
The Abbey Mason
The Jubilee of a Magazine
The Satin Shoes
Exeunt Omnes
A Poet
Postscript
"Men who march away"
IN FRONT OF THE LANDSCAPE
Plunging and labouring on in a tide of visions,
Dolorous and dear,
Forward I pushed my way as amid waste waters
Stretching around,
Through whose eddies there glimmered the
customed landscape
Yonder and near,
Blotted to feeble mist. And the coomb and the upland
Foliage-crowned,
Ancient chalk-pit, milestone, rills in the grass-flat
Stroked by the light,
Seemed but a ghost-like gauze, and no
substantial
Meadow or mound.
What were the infinite spectacles bulking foremost
Under my sight,
Hindering me to discern my paced advancement
Lengthening to miles;
What were the re-creations killing the daytime
As by the night?
O they were speechful faces, gazing insistent,
Some as with smiles,
Some as with slow-born tears that brinily
trundled
Over the wrecked
Cheeks that were fair in their flush-time, ash now
with anguish,
Harrowed by wiles.
Yes, I could see them, feel them, hear them, address them -
Halo-bedecked -
And, alas, onwards, shaken by fierce unreason,
Rigid in hate,
Smitten
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