Thomas Hardy

Postponement

  Snow-bound in woodland, a mournful word, 
  Dropt now and then from the bill of a bird, 
  Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus I heard, 
          Wearily waiting: – 
  
  ‘I planned her a nest in a leafless tree, 
  But the passers eyed and twitted me, 
  And said: “How reckless a bird is he, 
          Cheerily mating!”
  
  ‘Fear-filled, I stayed me till summer-tide, 
  In lewth of leaves to throne her bride; 
  But alas! her love for me waned and died, 
          Wearily waiting. 
  
  ‘Ah, had I been like some I see, 
  Born to an evergreen nesting-tree, 
  None had eyed and twitted me, 
          Cheerily mating!’