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Poem by Thomas Hardy The Frozen Greenhouse (St Juliot) ‘There was a frost Last night!’ she said, ‘And the stove was forgot When we went to bed, And the greenhouse plants Are frozen dead!’ By the breakfast blaze Blank-faced spoke she, Her scared young look Seeming to be The very symbol Of tragedy. The frost is fiercer Than then to-day, As I pass the place Of her once dismay, But the greenhouse stands Warm, tight, and gay, While she who grieved At the sad lot Of her pretty plants – Cold, iced, forgot – Herself is colder, And knows it not. Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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