I <br /> <br />"Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky, <br />"I fain would lighten thee, <br />But there are laws in force on high <br />Which say it must not be." <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />--"I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried <br />The North, "knew I but how <br />To warm my breath, to slack my stride; <br />But I am ruled as thou." <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />--"To-morrow I attack thee, wight," <br />Said Sickness. "Yet I swear <br />I bear thy little ark no spite, <br />But am bid enter there." <br /> <br />IV <br /> <br />--"Come hither, Son," I heard Death say; <br />"I did not will a grave <br />Should end thy pilgrimage to-day, <br />But I, too, am a slave!" <br /> <br />V <br /> <br />We smiled upon each other then, <br />And life to me had less <br />Of that fell look it wore ere when <br />They owned their passiveness.<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-subalterns/
