Poem by Thomas Hardy

A Self-Glamourer

My little happiness,
How much I have made of it! –
As if I had been not less
Than a queen, to be straight obeyed of it.
‘Life, be fairer far,’
I said, ‘than you are.’

So I counted my springtime-day’s
Dream of futurity
Enringed with golden rays
To be quite a summer surety;
And my trustful daring undoubt
Brought it about!

Events all human-wrought
Had look of divinity,
And what I foreframed in thought
Grew substanced, by force of affinity:
Visions to verities came,
Seen as the same.

My years in trusting spent
Make to shape towardly,
And fate and accident
Behave not perversely or frowardly.
Shall, then, Life’s winter snow
To me be so?

1. An Expostulation
2. Why She Moved House
3. Her Love-Birds
4. The Collector Cleans His Picture
5. The Aërolite

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