Explore "A Week" by Thomas Hardy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
ON Monday night I closed my door, / And thought you were not as heretofore, / And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace / Something beyond mere commonplace / In your ideas, and heart, and face.
On Wednesday I did not opine / Your life would ever be one with mine, / Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well, / And fondly felt that we must dwell / Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill / In gazing towards your distant vill / I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind / On Saturday-even one who shrined / All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea / On Sunday night I longed for thee, / Without whom life were waste to me!