at news of her death 

Not a line of her writing have I 
Not a thread of her hair, 
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby 
I may picture her there; 
And in vain do I urge my unsight 
To conceive my lost prize 
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light 
And with laughter her eyes. 

What scenes spread around her last days, 
Sad, shining, or dim? 
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways 
With an aureate nimb? 
Or did life-light decline from her years, 
And mischances control 
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears 
Disennoble her soul? 

Thus I do but the phantom retain 
Of the maiden of yore 
As my relic; yet haply the best of her--fined in my brain 
It may be the more 
That no line of her writing have I, 
Nor a thread of her hair, 
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby 
I may picture her there.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 897 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Thomas Hardy
Poem: Thoughts Of Phena
Volume: Wessex Poems and Other Verses
Year: Published/Written in 1899
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Thoughts Of Phena, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Thomas Hardy with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!