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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Lausanne In Gibbon’s Old Garden: 11–12 p.m.27 June 1897 (The 110th anniversary of the completion of the ‘Decline and Fall’ at the same hour and place) A spirit seems to pass, Formal in pose, but grave withal and grand: He contemplates a volume in his hand, And far lamps fleck him through the thin acacias. Anon the book is closed, With ‘It is finished!’ And at the alley’s end He turns, and when on me his glances bend As from the Past comes speech – small, muted, yet composed. ‘How fares the Truth now? – Ill? – Do pens but slily further her advance? May one not speed her but in phrase askance? Do scribes aver the Comic to be Reverend still? ‘Still rule those minds on earth At whom sage Milton’s wormwood words were hurled: “Truth like a bastard comes into the world Never without ill-fame to him who gives her birth”?’ Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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