The Darkling Thrush

~Thomas HardyImage

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , ,

Feel free to comment

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

The Sports Daily

Sports news, analysis and reaction—without an agenda

Blimey, boyo

Let's review that...

whysurfswim

why surf the web ? swim it !!!

kresnik258gaming

Vita fan-site - reviews; articles and opinions on Vita; PSP & PS1 content

Welcome to Fandomland

On down the rabbit-hole we go...

Books and Such

YA author supporting other authors

AIVAnet

Online Magazine with news, reviews, software and comparisons for mobile devices and more.

%d bloggers like this: