Explore "At Moonrise and Onwards" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I THOUGHT you a fire / On Heron-Plantation Hill, / Dealing out mischief the most dire / To the chattels of men of hire / There in their vill.
But by and by / You turned a yellow-green, / Like a large glow-worm in the sky; / And then I could descry / Your mood and mien.
How well I know / Your furtive feminine shape! / As if reluctantly you show / You nude of cloud, and but by favour throw / Aside its drape . . .
-How many a year / Have you kept pace with me, / Wan Woman of the waste up there, / Behind a hedge, or the bare / Bough of a tree!
No novelty are you, / O Lady of all my time, / Veering unbid into my view / Whether I near Death's mew, / Or Life's top cyme!