Explore "Quid Hic Agis?" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I. WHEN I weekly knew / An ancient pew, / And murmured there / The forms of prayer / And thanks and praise / In the ancient ways, / And heard read out / During August drought / That chapter from Kings / Harvest-time brings; / -How the prophet, broken / By griefs unspoken, / Went heavily away / To fast and to pray, / And, while waiting to die.
The Lord passed by, / And a whirlwind and fire / Drew nigher and nigher, / And a small voice anon / Bade him up and be gone,- / I did not apprehend / As I sat to the end / And watched for her smile / Across the sunned aisle, / That this tale of a seer / Which came once a year / Might, when sands were heaping, / Be like a sweat creeping, / Or in any degree / Bear on her or on me!