Versos English Thomas Hardy Nature’S Questioning

English poem

Nature’S Questioning

by

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WHEN I look forth at dawning, pool, Field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to gaze at me Like chastened children sitting silent in a school;

Their faces dulled, constrained, and worn, As though the master’s ways Through the long teaching days Their first terrestrial zest had chilled and overborne.

And on them stirs, in lippings mere (As if once clear in call, But now scarce breathed at all)— “We wonder, ever wonder, why we find us here!

“Has some Vast Imbecility, Mighty to build and blend, But impotent to tend, Framed us in jest, and left us now to hazardry?

“Or come we of an Automaton Unconscious of our pains? . . . Or are we live remains Of Godhead dying downwards, brain and eye now gone?

“Or is it that some high Plan betides, As yet not understood, Of Evil stormed by Good, We the Forlorn Hope over which Achievement strides?”

Thus things around. No answerer I . . . Meanwhile the winds, and rains, And Earth’s old glooms and pains Are still the same, and gladdest Life Death neighbours nigh.

THE IMPERCIPIENT (AT A CATHEDRAL SERVICE)

THAT from this bright believing band An outcast I should be, That faiths by which my comrades stand Seem fantasies to me, And mirage-mists their Shining Land, Is a drear destiny.

Why thus my soul should be consigned To infelicity, Why always I must feel as blind To sights my brethren see, Why joys they’ve found I cannot find, Abides a mystery.

Since heart of mine knows not that ease Which they know; since it be That He who breathes All’s Well to these Breathes no All’s-Well to me, My lack might move their sympathies And Christian charity!

I am like a gazer who should mark An inland company Standing upfingered, with, “Hark! hark! The glorious distant sea!” And feel, “Alas, ’tis but yon dark And wind-swept pine to me!”

Yet I would bear my shortcomings With meet tranquillity, But for the charge that blessed things I’d liefer have unbe. O, doth a bird deprived of wings Go earth-bound wilfully!

* * * * *

Enough. As yet disquiet clings About us. Rest shall we.

[Picture: Sketch of inside of church]