Thomas Hardy Poems

I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
...

Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone
From holly and cotoneaster
Around the house. The flakes fly!--faster
...

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
...

I

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
...

Why go to Saint-Juliot? What's Juliot to me?
I've been but made fancy
By some necromancy
That much of my life claims the spot as its key.
...

They hail me as one living,
But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?
...

This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly;
...

Somewhere afield here something lies
In Earth's oblivious eyeless trust
That moved a poet to prophecies -
A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust
...

Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the roseate wine.
...

As 'legal representative'
I read a missive not my own,
On new designs the senders give
For clothes, in tints as shown.
...