Poem by Thomas Hardy

After the Death of a Friend

You died, and made but little of it! –
Why then should I, when called to doff it,
Drop, and renounce this worm-holed raiment,
Shrink edgewise off from its grey claimant?
Rather say, when I am Time-outrun,
As you did: Take me, and have done,
Inexorable, insatiate one!

1. The End of the Episode
2. Barthelemon at Vauxhall
3. The Month’s Calendar
4. The Second Visit
5. Revulsion

Print

1459 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version