The Self-Unseeing

Thomas HardyThomas Hardy

1 min read · 12.4K reads

Here is the ancient floor,
Footworn and hollowed and thin,
Here was the former door
Where the dead feet walked in.She sat here in her chair,
Smiling into the fire;
He who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.Childlike, I danced in a dream;
Blessings emblazoned that day;
Everything glowed with a gleam;
Yet we were looking away!
Thomas Hardy
About the poet

Thomas Hardy

1840 - 1928/Male/EnglishA novelist and poet, Hardy wrote of tragic characters struggling against their passions and social circumstances.

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