Poem by Thomas Hardy

Cynic’s Epitaph

A race with the sun as he downed
I ran at evetide,
Intent who should first gain the ground
And there hide.

He beat me by some minutes then,
But I triumphed anon,
For when he’d to rise up again
I stayed on.

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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