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 Re: A Collection of Beautiful Poems (Re: zumrawi)
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salamz ya zumrawi,... Thomas is a gr8 writer... i knew him cuz they basically "forced" us 2 read his novel "Tess Of The D'Ubervills" in grade 12 or somethin.. been a long time, but u'd b surprised how many times i read it afterwords ...he's one of z greatest writers of z end of the 1800s n z early 1900s... u should definetly read for him n i strongly recommend "Tess..". "far from z maddenin cloud" and "Jude z obsecure"... and one that i still havn't gone 2 read yet, but i'll if i get my hands on it.. called "a pair of blue eyes"... what i really like 'bout the guy is his darin style of writin n his explicit ability to use symbolism (my favourite form in writin)... give it a thought.. z guy is worth it anyhow ..
here's one of his poems..
Thomas Hardy (1840–192 . Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
31. Her Immortality
UPON a noon I pilgrimed through
A pasture, mile by mile,
Unto the place where I last saw
My dead Love’s living smile.
And sorrowing I lay me down 5
Upon the heated sod:
It seemed as if my body pressed
The very ground she trod.
I lay, and thought; and in a trance
She came and stood me by— 10
The same, even to the marvellous ray
That used to light her eye.
“You draw me, and I come to you,
My faithful one,” she said,
In voice that had the moving tone 15
It bore in maidenhead.
She said: “‘Tis seven years since I died:
Few now remember me;
My husband clasps another bride;
My children mothers she. 20
My brethren, sisters, and my friends
Care not to meet my sprite:
Who prized me most I did not know
Till I passed down from sight.”
I said: “My days are lonely here; 25
I need thy smile alway:
I’ll use this night my ball or blade,
And join thee ere the day.”
A tremor stirred her tender lips,
Which parted to dissuade: 30
“That cannot be, O friend,” she cried;
“Think, I am but a Shade!
“A Shade but in its mindful ones
Has immortality;
By living, me you keep alive, 35
By dying you slay me.
“In you resides my single power
Of sweet continuance here;
On your fidelity I count
Through many a coming year.” 40
—I started through me at her plight,
So suddenly confessed:
Dismissing late distaste for life,
I craved its bleak unrest.
“I will not die, my One of all!— 45
To lengthen out thy days
I’ll guard me from minutest harms
That may invest my ways!”
She smiled and went. Since then she comes
Oft when her birth-moon climbs, 50
Or at the seasons’ ingresses
Or anniversary times;
But grows my grief. When I surcease,
Through whom alone lives she,
Ceases my Love, her words, her ways, 55
Never again to be!
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