He Prefers Her Earthly Thomas Hardy

This after-sunset is a sight for seeing,
Cliff-heads of craggy cloud surrounding it.
   —And dwell you in that glory-show?
You may; for there are strange strange things in being,
        Stranger than I know.

Yet if that chasm of splendour claim your presence
Which glows between the ash cloud and the dun,
   How changed must be your mortal mould!
Changed to a firmament-riding earthless essence
        From what you were of old:

All too unlike the fond and fragile creature
Then known to me . . . Well, shall I say it plain?
   I would not have you thus and there,
But still would grieve on, missing you, still feature
        You as the one you were.