Explore "He Fears his Good Fortune" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THERE was a glorious time / At an epoch of my prime; / Mornings beryl-bespread, / And evenings golden-red; / Nothing gray: / And in my heart I said, / "However this chanced to be, / It is too full for me, / Too rare, too rapturous, rash, / Its spell must close with a crash / Some day!"
The radiance went on / Anon and yet anon, / And sweetness fell around / Like manna on the ground. / "I've no claim," / Said I, "to be thus crowned: / I am not worthy this: - / Must it not go amiss? - / Well... let the end foreseen / Come duly! -I am serene. " / -And it came.