Poem by Thomas Hardy

A Beauty’s Soliloquy during Her Honeymoon

Too late, too late! I did not know my fairness
Would catch the world’s keen eyes so!
How the men look at me! My radiant rareness
I deemed not they would prize so!

That I was a peach for any man’s possession
Why did not some one say
Before I leased myself in an hour’s obsession
To this dull mate for aye!

His days are mine. I am one who cannot steal her
Ahead of his plodding pace:
As he is, so am I. One doomed to feel her
A wasted form and face!

I was so blind! It did sometimes just strike me
All girls were not as I,
But, dwelling much alone, how few were like me
I could not well descry;

Till, at this Grand Hotel, all looks bend on me
In homage as I pass
To take my seat at breakfast, dinner, – con me
As poorly spoused, alas!

I was too young. I dwelt too much on duty:
If I had guessed my powers
Where might have sailed this cargo of choice beauty
In its unanchored hours!

Well, husband, poor plain man; I’ve lost life’s battle! –
Come – let them look at me.
O damn, don’t show in your looks that I’m your chattel
Quite so emphatically!

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

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