The Life of Thomas Hardy
able evils—but the abiding love of life and of all that belongs to it, as expressed in the poem Great Things, remains his ultimate apology for producing lyric poetry:
Sweet cyder is a great thing,
A great thing to me,
Spinning down to Weymouth town
By Ridgeway thirstily,
And maid and mistress summoning
Who tend the hostelry:
O cyder is a great thing,
A great thing to me!
A great thing to me,
Spinning down to Weymouth town
By Ridgeway thirstily,
And maid and mistress summoning
Who tend the hostelry:
O cyder is a great thing,
A great thing to me!
The dance is a great thing,
A great thing to me,
With candles lit and partners fit
For night-long revelry;
And going home when day-dawning
Peeps pale upon the lea:
O dancing is a great thing,
A great thing to me!
A great thing to me,
With candles lit and partners fit
For night-long revelry;
And going home when day-dawning
Peeps pale upon the lea:
O dancing is a great thing,
A great thing to me!
Love is, yea, a great thing,
A great thing to me,
When, having drawn across the dawn
In darkness silently,
A figure flits, like one a-wing
Out from the nearest tree:
O love is, yes, a great thing,
Aye, greatest thing to me!
A great thing to me,
When, having drawn across the dawn
In darkness silently,
A figure flits, like one a-wing
Out from the nearest tree:
O love is, yes, a great thing,
Aye, greatest thing to me!
Will these be always great things,
Greatest things to me? . . .
Let it befall that One will call,
"Soul, I have need of thee":
Greatest things to me? . . .
Let it befall that One will call,
"Soul, I have need of thee":
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