Public Domain Poetry And Stories - The Tree - An Old Man's Story by Thomas Hardy
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The Tree - An Old Man's Story

    By Thomas Hardy



I

    Its roots are bristling in the air
    Like some mad Earth-god's spiny hair;
    The loud south-wester's swell and yell
    Smote it at midnight, and it fell.
    Thus ends the tree
    Where Some One sat with me.

II

    Its boughs, which none but darers trod,
    A child may step on from the sod,
    And twigs that earliest met the dawn
    Are lit the last upon the lawn.
    Cart off the tree
    Beneath whose trunk sat we!

III

    Yes, there we sat: she cooed content,
    And bats ringed round, and daylight went;
    The gnarl, our seat, is wrenched and sunk,
    Prone that queer pocket in the trunk
    Where lay the key
    To her pale mystery.

IV

    "Years back, within this pocket-hole
    I found, my Love, a hurried scrawl
    Meant not for me," at length said I;
    "I glanced thereat, and let it lie:
    The words were three -
    'Beloved, I agree.'

V

    "Who placed it here; to what request
    It gave assent, I never guessed.
    Some prayer of some hot heart, no doubt,
    To some coy maiden hereabout,
    Just as, maybe,
    With you, Sweet Heart, and me."

VI

    She waited, till with quickened breath
    She spoke, as one who banisheth
    Reserves that lovecraft heeds so well,
    To ease some mighty wish to tell:
    "'Twas I," said she,
    "Who wrote thus clinchingly.

VII

    "My lover's wife - aye, wife! - knew nought
    Of what we felt, and bore, and thought . . .
    He'd said: 'I wed with thee or die:
    She stands between, 'tis true. But why?
    Do thou agree,
    And - she shalt cease to be.'

VIII

    "How I held back, how love supreme
    Involved me madly in his scheme
    Why should I say? . . . I wrote assent
    (You found it hid) to his intent . . .
    She - DIED . . . But he
    Came not to wed with me.

IX

    "O shrink not, Love! - Had these eyes seen
    But once thine own, such had not been!
    But we were strangers . . . Thus the plot
    Cleared passion's path. - Why came he not
    To wed with me? . . .
    He wived the gibbet-tree."

X

    - Under that oak of heretofore
    Sat Sweetheart mine with me no more:
    By many a Fiord, and Strom, and Fleuve
    Have I since wandered . . . Soon, for love,
    Distraught went she -
    'Twas said for love of me.



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