Poem by Thomas Hardy

The Masked Face

I found me in a great surging space,
At either end a door,
And I said: ‘What is this giddying place,
With no firm-fixéd floor,
That I knew not of before?’
‘It is Life,’ said a mask-clad face.

I asked: ‘But how do I come here,
Who never wished to come;
Can the light and air be made more clear,
The floor more quietsome,
And the doors set wide? They numb
Fast-locked, and fill with fear.’

The mask put on a bleak smile then,
And said, ‘O vassal-wight,
There once complained a goosequill pen
To the scribe of the Infinite
Of the words it had to write
Because they were past its ken.’

1. The Woman in the Rye
2. When Oats Were Reaped
3. The Wind’s Prophecy
4. Meditations on a Holiday
5. The Sun’s Last Look on the Country Girl

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