Read "The Wanderer" by Thomas Hardy online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
THERE is nobody on the road / But I, / And no beseeming abode / I can try / For shelter, so abroad / I must lie.
The stars feel not far up, / And to be / The lights by which I sup / Glimmeringly, / Set out in a hollow cup / Over me.
They wag as though they were / Panting for joy / Where they shine, above all care, / And annoy, / And demons of despair- / Life's alloy.
Sometimes outside the fence / Feet swing past, / Clock-like, and then go hence, / Till at last / There is a silence, dense, / Deep, and vast.
A wanderer, witch-drawn / To and fro, / To-morrow, at the dawn, / On I go, / And where I rest anon / Do not know!
Yet it's meet-this bed of hay / And roofless plight; / For there's a house of clay, / My own, quite, / To roof me soon, all day / And all night.