You did not walk with me
Of late to the hill-top tree
As in earlier days,
By the gated ways:
You were weak and lame,
So you never came,
And I went alone, and I did not mind,
Not thinking of you as left behind.
I walked up there to-day
Just in the former way:
Surveyed around
The familiar ground
By myself again:
What difference, then?
Only that underlying sense
Of the look of a room on returning thence.
More verses by Thomas Hardy
- The Sacrilege: (A Ballad-Tragedy)
- The Puzzled Game-Birds (Triolet)
- Valenciennes
- The Souls Of The Slain.
- The Sun On The Bookcase