(E. L. G.) <br /> <br /> BENEATH a knap where flown <br /> Nestlings play, <br /> Within walls of weathered stone, <br /> Far away <br /> From the files of formal houses, <br /> By the bough the firstling browses, <br /> Lives a Sweet: no merchants meet, <br /> No man barters, no man sells <br /> Where she dwells. <br /> <br /> Upon that fabric fair <br /> "Here is she!" <br /> Seems written everywhere <br /> Unto me. <br /> But to friends and nodding neighbors, <br /> Fellow wights in lot and labors, <br /> Who descry the times as I, <br /> No such lucid legend tells <br /> Where she dwells. <br /> <br /> Should I lapse to what I was <br /> In days by-- <br /> (Such cannot be, but because <br /> Some loves die <br /> Let me feign it)--none would notice <br /> That where she I know by rote is <br /> Spread a strange and withering change, <br /> Like a drying of the wells <br /> Where she dwells. <br /> <br /> To feel I might have kissed-- <br /> Loved as true-- <br /> Otherwhere, nor Mine have missed <br /> My life through, <br /> Had I never wandered near her, <br /> Is a smart severe--severer <br /> In the thought that she is nought, <br /> Even as I, beyond the dells <br /> Where she dwells. <br /> <br /> And Devotion droops her glance <br /> To recall <br /> What bond-servants of Chance <br /> We are all. <br /> I but found her in that, going <br /> On my errant path unknowing, <br /> I did not out-skirt the spot <br /> That no spot on earth excels-- <br /> Where she dwells!<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ditty/
