| In the Moonlight by Thomas Hardy *********************** �O lonely workman, standing there In a dream, why do you stare and stare At her grave, as no other grave there were? �If your great gaunt eyes so importune Her soul by the shine of this corpse-cold moon, Maybe you�ll raise her phantom soon!� �Why, fool, it is what I would rather see Than all the living folk there be; But alas, there is no such joy for me!� �Ah�she was one you loved, no doubt, Through good and evil, through rain and drought, And when she passed, all your sun went out?� �Nay: she was the woman I did not love, Whom all the others were ranked above, Whom during her life I thought nothing of.� |