Poem by Thomas Hardy

Not Known

They know the wilings of the world,
The latest flippancy;
They know each jest at hazard hurled,
But know not me.

They know a phasm they name as me,
In whom I should not find
A single self-held quality
Of body or mind.

1. An Expostulation
2. Her Love-Birds
3. The Collector Cleans His Picture
4. The Aërolite
5. The Harvest-Supper

Print

2064 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version