|
| We kissed at the barrier ; and passing through |
| She left me, and moment by moment got |
| Smaller and smaller, until to my view |
| She was but a spot ; |
| A wee white spot of muslin fluff |
| That down the diminishing platform bore |
| Through hustling crowds of gentle and rough |
| To the carriage door. |
| Under the lamplight’s fitful glowers, |
| Behind dark groups from far and near, |
| Whose interests were apart from ours, |
| She would disappear, |
| Then show again, till I ceased to see |
| That flexible form, that nebulous white ; |
| And she who was more than my life to me |
| Had vanished quite. |
| We have penned new plans since that fair fond day, |
| And in season she will appear again— |
| Perhaps in the same soft white array— |
| But never as then ! |
| —‘And why, young man, must eternally fly |
| A joy you’ll repeat, if you love her well ?’ |
| —O friend, nought happens twice thus ; why, |
| I cannot tell ! |
| Thomas Hardy | Classic Poems
|
Ps and Qs: Photography, Poetry and Quiet 
Lovely!! It’s great to read the classics – I haven’t read this one before. Thanks for posting 🙂
I hadn’t read this before either. It spoke to me….I love finding treasures in the classics.
AND, when I read your poems, I always imagine the pictures that would match your beautiful words 🙂