Poem by Thomas Hardy

In a Cathedral City

These people have not heard your name;
No loungers in this placid place
Have helped to bruit your beauty’s fame.

The grey Cathedral, towards whose face
Bend eyes untold, has met not yours;
Your shade has never swept its base,

Your form has never darked its doors,
Nor have your faultless feet once thrown
A pensive pit-pat on its floors.

Along the street to maids well known
Blithe lovers hum their tender airs,
But in your praise voice not a tone. . . . 

– Since nought bespeaks you here, or bears,
As I, your imprint through and through,
Here might I rest, till my heart shares
The spot’s unconsciousness of you!

Salisbury

1. At the Word ‘Farewell’
2. The Supplanter
3. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
4. Sitting on the Bridge
5. The Children and Sir Nameless

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