Poem by Thomas Hardy

He Wonders about Himself

No use hoping, or feeling vext,
Tugged by a force above or under
Like some fantocine, much I wonder
What I shall find me doing next!

Shall I be rushing where bright eyes be?
Shall I be suffering sorrows seven?
Shall I be watching the stars of heaven,
Thinking one of them looks like thee?

Part is mine of the general Will,
Cannot my share in the sum of sources
Bend a digit the poise of forces,
And a fair desire fulfil?

1. An Expostulation
2. The Aërolite
3. The Harvest-Supper
4. Why She Moved House
5. Her Love-Birds

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