Explore "Overlooking the River Stour" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE swallows flew in the curves of an eight / Above the river-gleam / In the wet June's last beam: / Like little crossbows animate / The swallows flew in the curves of an eight / Above the river-gleam.
Planing up shavings of crystal spray / A moor-hen darted out / From the bank thereabout, / And through the stream-shine ripped his way; / Planing up shavings of crystal spray / A moor-hen darted out.
Closed were the kingcups; and the mead / Dripped in monotonous green, / Though the day's morning sheen / Had shown it golden and honeybee'd; / Closed were the kingcups; and the mead / Dripped in monotonous green.
And never I turned my head, alack, / While these things met my gaze / Through the pane's drop-drenched glaze, / To see the more behind my back... / O never I turned, but let, alack, / These less things hold my gaze!