Poem by Thomas Hardy

The West-of-Wessex Girl

A very West-of-Wessex girl,
As blithe as blithe could be,
Was once well-known to me,
And she would laud her native town,
And hope and hope that we
Might sometime study up and down
Its charms in company.

But never I squired my Wessex girl
In jaunts to Hoe or street
When hearts were high in beat,
Nor saw her in the marbled ways
Where market-people meet
That in her bounding early days
Were friendly with her feet.

Yet now my West-of-Wessex girl,
When midnight hammers slow
From Andrew’s, blow by blow,
As phantom draws me by the hand
To the place – Plymouth Hoe –
Where side by side in life, as planned,
We never were to go!

1. An Expostulation
2. The Collector Cleans His Picture
3. The Aërolite
4. The Harvest-Supper
5. Why She Moved House

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