Explore "The Marble Tablet" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THERE it stands, though alas, what a little of her / Shows in its cold white look! / Not her glance, glide, or smile; not a tittle of her / Voice like the purl of a brook; / Not her thoughts, that you read like a book.
It may stand for her once in November / When first she breathed, witless of all; / Or in heavy years she would remember / When circumstance held her in thrall; / Or at last, when she answered her call!
Nothing more. The still marble, date-graven, / Gives all that it can, tersely lined; / That one has at length found the haven / Which every one other will find; / With silence on what shone behind.