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A Gentleman's Epitaph On Himself And A Lady Post by :stormpay Category :Poems Author :Thomas Hardy Date :March 2010 Read :698

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A Gentleman's Epitaph On Himself And A Lady

I dwelt in the shade of a city,
She far by the sea,
With folk perhaps good, gracious, witty;
But never with me.

Her form on the ballroom's smooth flooring
I never once met,
To guide her with accents adoring
Through Weippert's "First Set." {1}

I spent my life's seasons with pale ones
In Vanity Fair,
And she enjoyed hers among hale ones
In salt-smelling air.

Maybe she had eyes of deep colour,
Maybe they were blue,
Maybe as she aged they got duller;
That never I knew.

She may have had lips like the coral,
But I never kissed them,
Saw pouting, nor curling in quarrel,
Nor sought for, nor missed them.

Not a word passed of love all our lifetime,
Between us, nor thrill;
We'd never a husband-and-wife time,
For good or for ill.

Yet as one dust, through bleak days and vernal,
Lie I and lies she,
This never-known lady, eternal
Companion to me!



The End
Thomas Hardy's poem: A Gentleman's Epitaph on Himself and a Lady

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The Contretemps The Contretemps

The Contretemps
A forward rush by the lamp in the gloom, And we clasped, and almost kissed; But she was not the woman whom I had promised to meet in the thawing brumeOn that harbour-bridge; nor was I he of her tryst. So loosening from me swift she said: "O why, why feign to be The one I had meant!--to whom I have sped To fly with, being so sorrily wed!"- 'Twas thus and thus that she upbraided me. My assignation

The Old Gown The Old Gown

The Old Gown
(SONG)I have seen her in gowns the brightest, Of azure, green, and red,And in the simplest, whitest, Muslined from heel to head;I have watched her walking, riding, Shade-flecked by a leafy tree,Or in fixed thought abiding By the foam-fingered sea.In woodlands I have known her, When boughs were mourning loud,In the rain-reek she has shown her Wild-haired and watery-browed.And once or twice she has cast me As she pomped along the streetCourt-clad, ere quite she had passed me, A glance from her chariot-seat.But in my