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Poem by Thomas Hardy The Curate’s Kindness A Workhouse Irony I I thought they’d be strangers aroun’ me, But she’s to be there! Let me jump out o’ waggon and go back and drown me At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir. II I thought: ‘Well, I’ve come to the Union – The workhouse at last – After honest hard work all the week, and Communion O’ Zundays, these fifty years past. III ‘’Tis hard; but,’ I thought, ‘never mind it: There’s gain in the end: And when I get used to the place I shall find it A home, and may find there a friend. IV ‘Life there will be better than t’other, For peace is assured. The men in one wing and their wives in another Is strictly the rule of the Board.’ V Just then one young Pa’son arriving Steps up out of breath To the side o’ the waggon wherein we were driving To Union; and calls out and saith: VI ‘Old folks, that harsh order is altered, Be not sick of heart ! The Guardians they poohed and they pished and they paltered When urged not to keep you apart. VII ‘ “It is wrong,” I maintained, “to divide them, Near forty years wed.” “Very well, sir. We promise, then, they shall abide them In one wing together,” they said.’ VIII Then I sank – knew ’twas quite a foredone thing That misery should be To the end! . . . To get freed of her there was the one thing Had made the change welcome to me. IX To go there was ending but badly; ’Twas shame and ’twas pain; ‘But anyhow,’ thought I, ‘thereby I shall gladly Get free of this forty years’ chain.’ X I thought they’d be strangers aroun’ me, But she’s to be there! Let me jump out o’ waggon and go back and drown me At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir. Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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