THE RETURN.
Thomas Hardy’s heart rests at the last in the heart of his wellloved Wessex. Rest now, within this quiet English land That was your peopled kingdom for a spaee; While still the seasons pass at sluggish pace, And the full years do fall like grains of sand From out a potter’s open, careless hand. And the old tales of love and loss and pain Are never-endingly retold again, And Life mourns like a sea upon a strand. You who held such strict parleyings with Fate; Who asked no quarter, and who gave no ground; Who gaaoii iuio that Dark without the Gate, Unflinchingly at what black doom you found: Should no Call shake the cell where you await; The boon you craved be granted—O sleep sound! —Joseph Lee, in the “ London Daily Chronicle.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TS19280307.2.66
Bibliographic details
Star (Christchurch), Issue 18406, 7 March 1928, Page 6
Word Count
135THE RETURN. Star (Christchurch), Issue 18406, 7 March 1928, Page 6
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