Poem by Thomas Hardy

Just the Same

I sat. It all was past;
Hope never would hail again;
Fair days had ceased at a blast,
The world was a darkened den.

The beauty and dream were gone,
And the halo in which I had hied
So gaily gallantly on
Had suffered blot and died!

I went forth, heedless whither,
In a cloud too black for name:
– People frisked hither and thither;
The world was just the same.

1. The Woman in the Rye
2. When Oats Were Reaped
3. The Sun’s Last Look on the Country Girl
4. Squire Hooper
5. The Peasant’s Confession

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