Explore "The Sun on the Bookcase" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
(_Student's Love-song_)
ONCE more the cauldron of the sun / Smears the bookcase with winy red, / And here my page is, and there my bed, / And the apple-tree shadows travel along. / Soon their intangible track will be run, / And dusk grow strong / And they be fled.
Yes: now the boiling ball is gone, / And I have wasted another day. / But wasted-_wasted_, do I say? / Is it a waste to have imaged one / Beyond the hills there, who, anon, / My great deeds done / Will be mine alway?