Thomas Hardy
In years defaced

In years defaced and lost
Two sat here, transport-tossed
Lit by a living love
The wilted world knew nothing of:

Scared momently
By gain-givings
Then hoping things
That could not be

Of love and us no trace
Abides upon the place;
The sun and shadows wheel
Season and season sereward steal:

Foul days and fair
Here, too, prevail
And gust and gale
As everywhere...

But lonely shepherd souls
Who bask amid these knolls
May catch a faery sound
On sleepy noon-tides from the ground:

"O not again
Till Earth outwears
Shall lovе like theirs
Suffuse this glеn!"