Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
38. Middle-Age Enthusiasms
W
Signalled a jocund throng;
We said: “Go to, the hour
Is apt!”—and joined the song;
And, kindling, laughed at life and care,
Although we knew no laugh lay there.
Watching us, wonder-dumb;
Their friendship met our mood;
We cried: “We’ll often come:
We’ll come morn, noon, eve, everywhen!”
—We doubted we should come again.
Leap from quaint leaves in shade;
A secret light of greens
They’d for their pleasure made.
We said: “We’ll set such sorts as these!”
—We knew with night the wish would cease.
“Its tacit tales so dear,
Our thoughts, when breath has sped,
Will meet and mingle here!”…
“Words!” mused we. “Passed the mortal door,
Our thoughts will reach this nook no more.”