Wessex Poems and Other Verses

Name: Wessex Poems and Other Verses
Author: Thomas Hardy

by Thomas Hardy

Pages: about 55
Category: Literature & Fiction
Language: English
Reading time: 60 min at 250 wpm

Start readingThe whole book, as cards or one word at a time. 34 min at 450 wpm in Read mode.

From the opening

OF the miscellaneous collection of verse that follows, only four pieces have been published, though many were written long ago, and other partly written. In some few cases the verses were turned into prose and printed as such, it having been unanticipated at that time that they might see the light.
Whenever an ancient and legitimate word of the district, for which there was no equivalent in received English, suggested itself as the most natural, nearest, and often only expression of a thought, it has been made use of, on what seemed good grounds.
The pieces are in a large degree dramatic or personative in conception; and this even where they are not obviously so.
The dates attached to some of the poems do not apply to the rough sketches given in illustration, which have been recently made, and, as may be surmised, are inserted for personal and local reasons rather than for their intrinsic qualities.
CHANGE and chancefulness in my flowering youthtime, Set me sun by sun near to one unchosen; Wrought us fellow-like, and despite divergence, Friends interlinked us.
“Cherish him can I while the true one forthcome— Come the rich fulfiller of my prevision; Life is roomy yet, and the odds unbounded.” So self-communed I.
Thwart my wistful way did a damsel saunter, Fair, the while unformed to be all-eclipsing; “Maiden meet,” held I, “till arise my forefelt Wonder of women.”
Long a visioned hermitage deep desiring, Tenements uncouth I was fain to house in; “Let such lodging be for a breath-while,” thought I, “Soon a more seemly.
“Then, high handiwork will I make my life-deed, Truth and Light outshow; but the ripe time pending, Intermissive aim at the thing sufficeth.” Thus I . . . But lo, me!
Mistress, friend, place, aims to be bettered straightway, Bettered not has Fate or my hand’s achieving; Sole the showance those of my onward earth-track— Never transcended!

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Wessex Poems and Other Verses

From the opening

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