Poem by Thomas Hardy

* * *

Triolet

How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
- Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Nor memory shaped old times anew,
   Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee
How great my grief, my joys how few,
   Since first it was my fate to know thee? 

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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