To A Lady Offended By A Book Of The Writer's

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Title:     To A Lady Offended By A Book Of The Writer's
Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy]

Now that my page upcloses, doomed, maybe,
Never to press thy cosy cushions more,
Or wake thy ready Yeas as heretofore,
Or stir thy gentle vows of faith in me:

Knowing thy natural receptivity,
I figure that, as flambeaux banish eve,
My sombre image, warped by insidious heave
Of those less forthright, must lose place in thee.

So be it. I have borne such. Let thy dreams
Of me and mine diminish day by day,
And yield their space to shine of smugger things;
Till I shape to thee but in fitful gleams,
And then in far and feeble visitings,
And then surcease. Truth will be truth alway.

[The end]
Thomas Hardy's poem: To A Lady Offended By A Book Of The Writer's

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