The Dead Man Walking
Thomas Hardy
1840 to 1928
They hail me as one living,
But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?
I am but a shape that stands here,
A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.
Not at a minute's warning,
Not in a loud hour,
For me ceased Time's enchantments
In hall and bower.
There was no tragic transit,
No catch of breath,
When silent seasons inched me
On to this death. ...
— A Troubadour-youth I rambled
With Life for lyre,
The beats of being raging
In me like fire.
But when I practised eyeing
The goal of men,
It iced me, and I perished
A little then.
When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,
Through the Last Door,
And left me standing bleakly,
I died yet more;
And when my Love's heart kindled
In hate of me,
Wherefore I knew not, died I
One more degree.
And if when I died fully
I cannot say,
And changed into the corpse-thing
I am to-day;
Yet is it that, though whiling
The time somehow
In walking, talking, smiling,
I live not now.
Thomas Hardy's The Dead Man Walking
We are busy working to bring Thomas Hardy's "The Dead Man Walking" to life through our unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you soon.
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- Deep analysis of the poem's rhythm, structure, and emotional essence
- Careful selection of musical styles that enhance the poem's unique voice
- Balancing traditional poetic expression with contemporary sound landscapes
- Multiple revisions to ensure the arrangement honors the poet's original vision
This creative journey takes time—each composition represents hours of dedicated work to create something that deepens our connection to Thomas Hardy's words in meaningful ways.
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