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SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE - LYRICS AND REVERIES - WITH
SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE - LYRICS AND REVERIES - WITH THOMAS HARDY Contents:
Lyrics and Reveries
In Front of the Landscape
Channel Firing
The Convergence of the Twain
The Ghost of the Past
After the Visit
To Meet or Otherwise
The Difference
The Sun on the Bookcase
"When I set out for Lyonnesse"
A Thunderstorm in Town
The Torn Letter
Beyond the Last Lamp
The Face at the Casement
Lost Love
"My spirit will not haunt the mound"
"Wessex Heights
In Death divided
The Place on the Map
Where the Picnic was
The Schreckhorn
A Singer asleep
A Plaint to Man
God's Funeral
Spectres that grieve
"Ah are you digging on my grave?"
Satires of Circumstance
At Tea
In Church
By her Aunt's Grave
In the Room of the Bride-elect
At the Watering-place
In the Cemetery
Outside the Window
In the Study
At the Altar-rail
In the Nuptial Chamber
In the Restaurant
At the Draper's
On the Death-bed
Over the Coffin
In the Moonlight
Self-unconscious
The Discovery
Tolerance
Before and after Summer
At Day-close in November
The Year's Awakening
Under the Waterfall
The Spell of the Rose
St. Launce's revisited
Poems of 1912-13-
The Going
Your Last Drive
The Walk
Rain on a Grace
"I found her out there"
Without Ceremony
Lament
The Haunter
The Voice
His Visitor
A Circular
A Dream or No
After a Journey
A Death-ray recalled
Beeny Cliff
At Castle Boterel
Places
The Phantom Horsewoman
Miscellaneous Pieces
The Wistful Lady
The Woman in the Rye
The Cheval-Glass
The Re-enactment
Her Secret
"She charged me"
The Newcomer's Wife
A Conversation at Dawn
A King's Soliloquy
The Coronation
Aquae Sulis
Seventy-four and Twenty
The Elopement
"I rose up as my custom is"
A Week
Had you wept
Bereft she thinks she dreams
In the British Museum
In the Servants' Quarters
The Obliterate Tomb
"Regret not me"
The Recalcitrants
Starlings on the Roof
The Moon looks in
The Sweet Hussy
The Telegram
The Moth-signal
Seen by the Waits
The Two Soldiers
The Death of Regret
In the Days of Crinoline
The Roman Gravemounds
The Workbox
The Sacrilege
The Abbey Mason
The Jubilee of a Magazine
The Satin Shoes
Exeunt Omnes
A Poet
Postscript
"Men who march away"
IN FRONT OF THE LANDSCAPE
Plunging and labouring on in a tide of visions
Dolorous and dear
Forward I pushed my way as amid waste waters
Stretching around
Through whose eddies there glimmered the customed landscape
Yonder and near
Blotted to feeble mist. And the coomb and the upland
Foliage-crowned
Ancient chalk-pit milestone rills in the grass-flat
Stroked by the light
Seemed but a ghost-like gauze and no substantial
Meadow or mound.
What were the infinite spectacles bulking foremost
Under my sight
Hindering me to discern my paced advancement
Lengthening to miles;
What were the re-creations killing the daytime
As by the night?
O they were speechful faces gazing insistent
Some as with smiles
Some as with slow-born tears that brinily trundled
Over the wrecked
Cheeks that were fair in their flush-time ash now with anguish
Harrowed by wiles.
Yes I could see them feel them hear them address them -
Halo-bedecked -
And alas onwards shaken by fierce unreason
Rigid in hate
Smitten by years-long wryness born of misprision
Dreaded suspect.
Then there would breast me shining sights sweet seasons
Further in date;
Instruments of strings with the tenderest passion
Vibrant beside
Lamps long extinguished robes cheeks eyes with the earth's crust
Now corporate.
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