In A Eweleaze Near Weatherbury

Thomas Hardy

     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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