On the Way Thomas Hardy
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "On the Way" by Thomas Hardy. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
The trees fret fitfully and twist,
  Shutters rattle and carpets heave,
  Slime is the dust of yestereve,
    And in the streaming mist
Fishes might seem to fin a passage if they list.
    But to his feet,
    Drawing nigh and nigher
    A hidden seat,
    The fog is sweet
    And the wind a lyre.
  A vacant sameness grays the sky,
  A moisture gathers on each knop
  Of the bramble, rounding to a drop,
    That greets the goer-by
With the cold listless lustre of a dead man’s eye.
    But to her sight,
    Drawing nigh and nigher
    Its deep delight,
    The fog is bright
    And the wind a lyre.
  Shutters rattle and carpets heave,
  Slime is the dust of yestereve,
    And in the streaming mist
Fishes might seem to fin a passage if they list.
    But to his feet,
    Drawing nigh and nigher
    A hidden seat,
    The fog is sweet
    And the wind a lyre.
  A vacant sameness grays the sky,
  A moisture gathers on each knop
  Of the bramble, rounding to a drop,
    That greets the goer-by
With the cold listless lustre of a dead man’s eye.
    But to her sight,
    Drawing nigh and nigher
    Its deep delight,
    The fog is bright
    And the wind a lyre.
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