The Rambler
Thomas Hardy
I do not see the hills around, Nor mark the tints the copses wear; I do not note the grassy ground And constellated daisies there. I hear not the contralto note Of cuckoos hid on either hand, The whirr that shakes the nighthawk’s throat When eve’s brown awning hoods the land. Some say each songster, tree and mead— All eloquent of love divine— Receives their constant careful heed: Such keen appraisement is not mine. The tones around me that I hear, The aspects, meanings, shapes I see, Are those far back ones missed when near, And now perceived too late by me!
Next 10 Poems
- Thomas Hardy : The Respectable Burgher On The Higher Criticism
- Thomas Hardy : The Riddle
- Thomas Hardy : The Rival
- Thomas Hardy : The Roman Road
- Thomas Hardy : The Ruined Maid
- Thomas Hardy : The Seasons Of Her Year
- Thomas Hardy : The Selfsame Song
- Thomas Hardy : The Self-unseeing
- Thomas Hardy : The Sergeant's Song
- Thomas Hardy : The Sick God
Previous 10 Poems
- Thomas Hardy : The Puzzled Game-birds
- Thomas Hardy : The Problem
- Thomas Hardy : The Pity Of It
- Thomas Hardy : The Phantom Horsewoman.
- Thomas Hardy : The Peasent's Confession
- Thomas Hardy : The Peasant's Confession
- Thomas Hardy : The Oxen
- Thomas Hardy : The Mother Mourns
- Thomas Hardy : The Milkmaid
- Thomas Hardy : The Masked Face