
Paths Of Former Time Thomas Hardy
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No; no;
It must not be so:
They are the ways we do not go.
Still chew
The kine, and moo
In the meadows we used to wander through;
Still purl
The rivulets and curl
Towards the weirs with a musical swirl;
Haymakers
As in former years
Rake rolls into heaps that the pitchfork rears;
Wheels crack
On the turfy track
The waggon pursues with its toppling pack.
"Why then shun -
Since summer's not done -
All this because of the lack of one?"
Had you been
Sharer of that scene
You would not ask while it bites in keen
It must not be so:
They are the ways we do not go.
Still chew
The kine, and moo
In the meadows we used to wander through;
Still purl
The rivulets and curl
Towards the weirs with a musical swirl;
Haymakers
As in former years
Rake rolls into heaps that the pitchfork rears;
Wheels crack
On the turfy track
The waggon pursues with its toppling pack.
"Why then shun -
Since summer's not done -
All this because of the lack of one?"
Had you been
Sharer of that scene
You would not ask while it bites in keen
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