5/08/2008

A broken appointment


You did not come,

And marching Time drew on,


and wore me numb.


Yet less for loss of your dear presence there


Than that I thus found lacking in your make


That high compassion which can overbear


Reluctance for pure lovingkindness' sake


Grieved I, when, as the hope-hour stroked its sum,


You did not come.





You love not me,


And love alone can lend you loyalty;


I know and knew it. But, unto the store


Of human deeds divine in all but name,


Was it not worth a little hour or more


To add yet this: Once, you, a woman, came


To soothe a time-torn man; even though it be


You love not me?





Thomas Hardy

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