Poem by Thomas Hardy

I Was the Midmost

I was the midmost of my world
When first I frisked me free,
For though within its circuit gleamed
But a small company,
And I was immature, they seemed
To bend their looks on me.

She was the midmost of my world
When I went further forth,
And hence it was that, whether I turned
To south, east, west, or north,
Beams of an all-day Polestar burned
From that new axe of earth.

Where now is midmost in my world?
I trace it not at all:
No midmost shows it here, or there,
When wistful voices call
‘We are fain! We are fain!’ from everywhere
On Earth’s bewildering ball!

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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