Sunday Poetry – Thomas Hardy

thomashardy

Hardy can make any subject seem melancholy, even a gentle, English summer. That’s probably why I enjoy his poetry so much. In This Summer and Last, the speaker remembers a lovely summer in his past that can never be matched.

Unhappy summer you,
Who do not see
What your yester-summer saw!
Never, never will you be
Its match to me,
Never, never draw
Smiles your forerunner drew,
Know what it knew!

Divine things done and said
Illumined it,
Whose rays crept into corn-brown curls,
Whose breeze heard a humorous wit
Of fancy flit.—
Still the alert brook purls,
Though feet that there would tread
Elsewhere have sped.

So, bran-new summer, you
Will never see
All that yester-summer saw!
Never, never will you be
In memory
Its rival, never draw
Smiles your forerunner drew,
Know what it knew!

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