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Poem by Thomas Hardy


On a Fine Morning


I

Whence comes Solace?--Not from seeing
What is doing, suffering, being,
Not from noting Life's conditions,
Nor from heeding Time's monitions;
   But in cleaving to the Dream,
   And in gazing at the gleam
   Whereby gray things golden seem.

II

Thus do I this heyday, holding
Shadows but as lights unfolding,
As no specious show this moment
With its irised embowment;
   But as nothing other than
   Part of a benignant plan;
   Proof that earth was made for man. 



Thomas Hardy

Poem Theme: Morning

Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. The End of the Episode
  2. The Month’s Calendar
  3. The Strange House
  4. On a Discovered Curl of Hair
  5. There Seemed a Strangeness


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