Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
In the Moonlight
By Thomas Hardy
“O
In a dream, why do you stare and stare
At her grave, as no other grave there were?
Her soul by the shine of this corpse-cold moon,
Maybe you’ll raise her phantom soon!”
Than all the living folk there be;
But alas, there is no such joy for me!”
Through good and evil, through rain and drought,
And when she passed, all your sun went out?”
Whom all the others were ranked above,
Whom during her life I thought nothing of.”