Poem by Thomas Hardy

The Man with a Past

There was merry-making
When the first dart fell
As a heralding, –
Till grinned the fully bared thing,
And froze like a spell –
Like a spell.

Innocent was she,
Innocent was I,
Too simple we!
Before us we did not see,
Nearing, aught wry –
Aught wry!

I can tell it not now,
It was long ago;
And such things cow;
But that is why and how
Two lives were so –
Were so.

Yes, the years matured,
And the blows were three
That time ensured
On her, which she dumbly endured;
And one on me –
One on me.

1. On the Tune Called the Old-Hundred-and-Fourth
2. The Month’s Calendar
3. Genitrix Laesa
4. The Dead Bastard
5. In Death Divided

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