Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

After the Burial

The family had buried him,
Their bread-bringer, their best:
They had returned to the house, whose hush a dim
Vague vacancy expressed.

There sat his sons, mute, rigid-faced,
His daughters, strained, red-eyed,
His wife, whose wan, worn features, vigil-traced,
Bent over him when he died.

At once a peal bursts from the bells
Of a large tall tower hard by:
Along the street the jocund clangour swells,
And upward to the sky.

Probably it was a wedding-peal,
Or possibly for a birth,
Or townsman knighted for political zeal,
This resonant mark of mirth.

The mourners, heavy-browed, sat on
Motionless. Well they heard,
They could not help it; nevertheless thereon
Spoke not a single word,

Nor window did they close, to numb
The bells’ insistent calls
Of joy; but suffered the harassing din to come
And penetrate their souls.

1. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
2. The Supplanter
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Tragedian to Tragedienne
5. The Three Tall Men

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