This journal is mostly public because most of it contains poetry, quotations, pictures, jokes, videos, and news (medical and otherwise). If you like what you see, you are welcome to drop by, anytime. I update frequently.

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Posts Tagged: 'thomas+hardy'

Jun. 8th, 2015

med_cat: (Hourglass)
med_cat: (Hourglass)

The Man He Killed

med_cat: (Hourglass)
The Man He Killed
by Thomas Hardy

"Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!

"But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.

"I shot him dead because —
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although

"He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like — just as I —
Was out of work — had sold his traps —
No other reason why.

"Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown."

Apr. 26th, 2015

med_cat: (Spring garden)
med_cat: (Spring garden)

Proud Songsters

med_cat: (Spring garden)
Proud Songsters

The thrushes sing as the sun is going,
And the finches whistle in ones and pairs,
And as it gets dark loud nightingales
In bushes
Pipe, as they can when April wears,
As if all Time were theirs.

These are brand-new birds of twelve-months’ growing,
Which a year ago, or less than twain,
No finches were, nor nightingales,
Nor thrushes,
But only particles of grain,
And earth, and air, and rain.

Thomas Hardy 1840-1928

Found via [livejournal.com profile] poemsdaily

Dec. 17th, 2014

med_cat: (Winter London)
med_cat: (Winter London)

The Darkling Thrush

med_cat: (Winter London)
The Darkling Thrush

                                                              December 31, 1900

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled vine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be/ The Century's corpse outleant... )

Aug. 13th, 2009

med_cat: (cat in dress)
med_cat: (cat in dress)

Poem of the day, take 3

med_cat: (cat in dress)
Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave? by Thomas Hardy
"Ah, are you digging on my grave,
My loved one? -- planting rue?"
-- "No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
'That I should not be true.'"
 
The rest here for length: )