You Were The Sort That Men Forget
Thomas Hardy
You were the sort that men forget; Though I--not yet! - Perhaps not ever. Your slighted weakness Adds to the strength of my regret! You'd not the art--you never had For good or bad - To make men see how sweet your meaning, Which, visible, had charmed them glad. You would, by words inept let fall, Offend them all, Even if they saw your warm devotion Would hold your life's blood at their call. You lacked the eye to understand Those friends offhand Whose mode was crude, though whose dim purport Outpriced the courtesies of the bland. I am now the only being who Remembers you It may be. What a waste that Nature Grudged soul so dear the art its due!
Next 10 Poems
- Thomas Hardy : Zermatt To The Matterhorn.
- William Ernest Henley : A Desolate Shore
- William Ernest Henley : A Wink From Hesper, Falling
- William Ernest Henley : After
- William Ernest Henley : Allegro Maestoso
- William Ernest Henley : Andante Con Moto
- William Ernest Henley : Anterotics
- William Ernest Henley : Apparition
- William Ernest Henley : Arabian Nights' Entertainments
- William Ernest Henley : As Like The Woman As You Can
Previous 10 Poems
- Thomas Hardy : Wives In The Sere
- Thomas Hardy : Winter In Durnover Field
- Thomas Hardy : Why Be At Pains?
- Thomas Hardy : When I Set Out For Lyonnesse
- Thomas Hardy : Weathers
- Thomas Hardy : We Sat At The Window
- Thomas Hardy : Waiting Both
- Thomas Hardy : Valenciennes
- Thomas Hardy : V.r. 1819-1901 ( A Reverie. )
- Thomas Hardy : Unknowing