Explore "Afterwards" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHEN the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, / And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, / Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, / "He was a man who used to notice such things"?
If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, / The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight / Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, / "To him this must have been a familiar sight."