Collected Poems of Thomas Hardy (London: Macmillan and Co., 1932): 7. PR 4741 F32 Robarts Library.
2From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
3Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
4That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"
5Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
6Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
7Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
8Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.
9But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
10And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
12And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . .
13These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown
14Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.
Publication Start Year
Wessex Poems and Other Verses (London: Macmillan, Sept. 1898).
RPO poem Editors
Marc R. Plamondon