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Read more poems by Thomas Hardy: Thomas Hardy Poems at Poetry X.

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The Rambler

Thomas Hardy

I do not see the hills around, 
Nor mark the tints the copses wear; 
I do not note the grassy ground 
And constellated daisies there.

I hear not the contralto note 
Of cuckoos hid on either hand, 
The whirr that shakes the nighthawk's throat 
When eve's brown awning hoods the land.

Some say each songster, tree and mead-- 
All eloquent of love divine-- 
Receives their constant careful heed: 
Such keen appraisement is not mine.

The tones around me that I hear, 
The aspects, meanings, shapes I see, 
Are those far back ones missed when near, 
And now perceived too late by me! 

Added: 25 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2018 11:35 PM | Viewed: 4497 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2780/ | Viewed on 24 March 2018.
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