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  1. 5 days ago · The Wanderer. I must lie. Over me. Life 's alloy. Deep, and vast. Do not know! And all night. There is nobody on the road But I, And no beseeming abode I can try For shelter, so abroad I must lie. The stars feel not far up, And to be The ligh.

  2. Jun 23, 2024 · Thomas Hardy Songs 'Bathsheba' by Izzy Rees; The Three Strangers 'Interlopers at the Knap' 'What the Shepherd Saw' 'The Superstitious Man' Thomas Hardy's The Hand of Ethelberta; Thomas Hardy Poems to Music; Postcards. A Visit to Bathsheba Everdene's House; Visiting Hardy's Houses; A Hardy Postcard Collection in Virginia; A Hardy Family History ...

  3. 3 days ago · Ah, that there should have come a change! O the doom by someone spoken -. Who shall unseal the years, the years! O the doom that gave no token, When nothing of bale saw we: O the doom by someone spoken, O the heart by someone broken, The heart whose sweet reverberances are all time leaves to me. Jan.-Feb. 1913.

  4. 6 days ago · Men's lives, deaths, toils, and teens; You are but a heap of stick and stone: A new house has no sense of the have-beens. "Void as a drum. You stand: I am packed with these, Though, strangely, living dwellers who come. See not the phantoms all my substance sees! "Visible in the morning. Stand they, when dawn drags in;

  5. Jun 11, 2024 · It did not seem to me. That my dear country with its hearts, Minds, yearnings, worse and better parts. Had ended with the sea. [of his native country;] I further and further went anon, As such I still surveyed, And further yet - yea, on and on, And all the men I looked upon.

  6. 1 day ago · Ivy-spun halters choke. Elms stout and tall. Touches from ash, O wych, Sting you like scorn! You, too, brave hollies, twitch. Sidelong from thorn. Even the rank poplars bear. Illy a rival-s air, Cankering in black despair.

  7. 3 days ago · The Unborn. I rose at night, and visited. The Cave of the Unborn: And crowding shapes surrounded me. For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head. To haste its advent morn. Their eyes were lit with artless trust, Hope thrilled their every tone;

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