I
If seasons all were summers,
And leaves would never fall,
And hopping casement-comers
Were foodless not at all,
And fragile folk might be here
That white winds bid depart;
Then one I used to see here
Would warm my wasted heart!
II
One frail, who, bravely tilling
Long hours in gripping gusts,
Was mastered by their chilling,
And now his ploughshare rusts.
So savage winter catches
The breath of limber things,
And what I love he snatches,
And what I love not, brings.
(Thomas Hardy)
More Poetry from Thomas Hardy:
Thomas Hardy Poems based on Topics: Summer- I have lived with shades (Thomas Hardy Poems)
- A King's Soliloquy [On the Night of His Funeral] (Thomas Hardy Poems)
- I said to love (Thomas Hardy Poems)
- A Dream Or No (Thomas Hardy Poems)
- A Jog-Trot Pair (Thomas Hardy Poems)
- Between us now (Thomas Hardy Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Summer PoemsBased on Keywords: gusts, bravely, catches, chilling, rusts, mastered, limber, tilling, snatches, hopping, gripping