Friday Poetry: Thomas Hardy

Happy Friday!

I have gone for another Autumn based poem this week.

Autumn in King’s Hintock Park

Here by the baring bough

Raking up leaves,

Often I ponder how

Springtime deceives, –

I, an old woman now,

Raking up leaves.





Here in the avenue

Raking up leaves,

Lord’s ladies pass in view,

Until one heaves

Sighs at life’s russet hue,

Raking up leaves!





Just as my shape you see

Raking up leaves,

I saw, when fresh and free,

Those memory weaves

Into gray ghosts by me,

Raking up leaves.





Yet, Dear, though one may sigh,

Raking up leaves,

New leaves will dance on high –

Earth never grieves! –

Will not, when missed am I

Raking up leaves.

Thomas Hardy

Happy Birthday Thomas Hardy

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday dear Hardy!

Happy Birthday to YOU!

 

Yes, today is the day that Thomas Hardy was born in 1840. As I might have mentioned a few times already, I love the novels of Thomas Hardy and am beginning to love his poetry as well.

Hardy was an English novelist and poet. His work was influenced by Romanticism and focused heavily on the failings of Victorian society, especially on the struggle of people living in rural areas. Hardy wrote poetry all of his life but his first works of poetry were not published till 1898. He was first known as a novelist before his poetry took hold with the general public.

I have read a few of Hardy’s books and I intend to one day read them all. My current favourite is A Pair of Blue Eyes which I have read more than once. I love the fact that he was influenced by his own courtship of his wife Emma for this book.

Anyway that is my brief little homage to Thomas Hardy.

I would love to hear your thoughts on Thomas Hardy.

Happy Birthday Mr Hardy and thank you for your amazing legacy.

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Friday Poetry

As we near Christmas I have gone for a poem by Thomas Hardy. I love the work of Thomas Hardy, I have read many of his books and a few of his poems in the past. I think in 2019 I will try and read a bit more of his poetry as I rather enjoy it. Maybe my challenge is working and I am starting to enjoy reading poetry.

The Oxen

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.

“Now they are all on their knees,”

An elder said as we sat in a flock

By the embers in the hearthside ease.

 

We Pictured the meek mild creatures where

They dwelt in their starwy pen,

Nor did it occur to one of us there

To doubt they were kneeling then.

 

So fair a fancy few would weave

In these years! Yet, I feel,

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

“Come, see the oxen kneel,”

 

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

Our childhood used to know,”

I should go with him in the gloom,

Hoping it might be so.

 

 

Thomas Hardy

 

P.S I know the picture is of sheep but sadly I did not have any pictures of Oxen but sheep were there at the stable so I thought I could get away with it.

Lady Book Dragon.