The marble-streeted town Thomas Hardy
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I reach the marble-streeted town,
  Whose “Sound” outbreathes its air
    Of sharp sea-salts;
I see the movement up and down
    As when she was there.
Ships of all countries come and go,
  The bandsmen boom in the sun
    A throbbing waltz;
The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe
    As when she was one.
I move away as the music rolls:
  The place seems not to mind
    That she - of old
The brightest of its native souls -
    Left it behind!
Over this green aforedays she
  On light treads went and came,
    Yea, times untold;
Yet none here knows her history -
    Has heard her name.
  Whose “Sound” outbreathes its air
    Of sharp sea-salts;
I see the movement up and down
    As when she was there.
Ships of all countries come and go,
  The bandsmen boom in the sun
    A throbbing waltz;
The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe
    As when she was one.
I move away as the music rolls:
  The place seems not to mind
    That she - of old
The brightest of its native souls -
    Left it behind!
Over this green aforedays she
  On light treads went and came,
    Yea, times untold;
Yet none here knows her history -
    Has heard her name.
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