Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
Friends BeyondThomas Hardy (18401928)
W
Robert’s kin, and John’s, and Ned’s,
And the Squire, and Lady Susan, lie in Mellstock churchyard now!
Yet at mothy curfew-tide,
And at midnight when the noon-heat breathes it back from walls and leads,
In the muted, measured note
Of a ripple under archways, or a lone cave’s stillicide:
Unsuccesses to success,
Many thought-worn eves and morrows to a morrow free of thought.
Chill detraction stirs no sigh;
Fear of death has even bygone us: death gave all that we possess.’
Squire.—‘You may hold the manse in fee,
You may wed my spouse, may let my children’s memory of me die.’
Ransack coffer, desk, bureau;
Quiz the few poor treasures hid there, con the letters kept by me.’
Foul the grinterns, give up thrift.’
Wife.—‘If ye break my best blue china, children, I shan’t care or ho.’
What your daily doings are;
Who are wedded, born, divided; if your lives beat slow or swift.
If you quire to our old tune,
If the City stage still passes, if the weirs still roar afar.’
Which, in life, the Trine allow
(Why, none witteth), and ignoring all that haps beneath the moon,
Robert’s kin, and John’s, and Ned’s,
And the Squire, and Lady Susan, murmur mildly to me now.