The Life of Thomas Hardy
Beyond myself again I ranged;
And saw the free
Life by the sea,
And folk indifferent to me.
And saw the free
Life by the sea,
And folk indifferent to me.
O ’twas a charm to draw within
Thereafter, where
But she was; care
For one thing only, her, hid there!
Thereafter, where
But she was; care
For one thing only, her, hid there!
But so it chanced, without myself
I had to look,
And then I took
More heed of what I had long forsook:
I had to look,
And then I took
More heed of what I had long forsook:
The boats, the sands, the esplanade,
The laughing crowd;
Light-hearted, loud
Greetings from some not ill-endowed;
The laughing crowd;
Light-hearted, loud
Greetings from some not ill-endowed;
The evening sun-lit cliffs, the talk,
Hailings and halts,
The keen sea-salts,
The hand, the Morgenblätter Waltz.
Hailings and halts,
The keen sea-salts,
The hand, the Morgenblätter Waltz.
Still, when at night I drew inside
Forward she came,
Sad, but the same
As when I first had known her name.
Forward she came,
Sad, but the same
As when I first had known her name.
Then rose a time when, as by force,
Outwardly wooed
By contacts crude,
Her image in abeyance stood. . . .
Outwardly wooed
By contacts crude,
Her image in abeyance stood. . . .
[134]
