Rain on a Grave
Thomas Hardy
1840 to 1928
Track 1
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Jan. 31, 1913.
Ay — the sweet heart of them,
Loved beyond measure
Or evening was clear
Her delicate head
If there had lit on her
If drops chanced to pelt her
At the prime of the year.
Clouds spout upon her
We both, — who would stray there
Each tentative tread
In dust-paven rills
As at touch of dishonour
Their waters amain
Her who but lately
So coldly, so straightly
That summertime spills
Had shivered with pain
With a child's pleasure
And birds close their bills.
When sunny the day there,
All her life's round.
One who to shelter
Soon will be growing
And daisies be showing
Exposed to one weather
Such arrows of rain:
Till she form part of them —
In ruthless disdain, —
Were folded away there
Would that I lay there
Would quicken and quicken
And she were housed here!
When thunder-clouds thicken
Like stars on the ground,
Or better, together
Green blades from her mound,
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