Thomas Hardy

Middle-Age Enthusiasms

To M. H.
  
      We passed where flag and flower 
      Signalled a jocund throng; 
      We said: ‘Go to, the hour 
      Is apt!’ – and joined the song; 
  And, kindling, laughed at life and care, 
  Although we knew no laugh lay there. 
  
      We walked where shy birds stood 
      Watching us, wonder-dumb; 
      Their friendship met our mood; 
      We cried: ‘We’ll often come: 
  We’ll come morn, noon, eve, everywhen!’ 
  – We doubted we should come again. 
  
      We joyed to see strange sheens 
      Leap from quaint leaves in shade; 
      A secret light of greens 
      They’d for their pleasure made. 
  We said: ‘We’ll set such sorts as these!’ 
  – We knew with night the wish would cease. 
  
      ‘So sweet the place,’ we said, 
      ‘Its tacit tales so dear, 
      Our thoughts, when breath has sped, 
      Will meet and mingle here!’ . . . 
  ‘Words!’ mused we. ‘Passed the mortal door, 
  Our thoughts will reach this nook no more.’