POETRY.
AFTER THE VISIT.
COME again to the place
Where your presence was as a waft that skims Down a droutby way whose ascent bedims The bloom on the farer's face.
Come again, with the feet That were light on the lawn as a thistledown ball, And those mute ministrations to one and to all, Beyond the tongue's saying sweet.
Until then the faint scent Of the bordering flowers swam unheeded away, And I marked not the charm in the changes of day As the cloud-shadows came and went.
Through the dusk corridors Your walk was so soundless I did not know Your form from a phantom's of long ago Said to glide on the ancient floors,
Till you drew from the shade, And I saw the great luminous living eyes Regard me in fixed inquiring-wise,
Even as those of a soul that weighed Scarce consciously The eternal question of what Life was,
And why we were there, and what sad strange laws Made us crave that which could not he I
THOMAS HARDY.
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