Love The Monopolist Thomas Hardy

(Young Lover's Reverie)

The train draws forth from the station-yard,
         And with it carries me.
I rise, and stretch out, and regard
        The platform left, and see
An airy slim blue form there standing,
        And know that it is she.

While with strained vision I watch on,
        The figure turns round quite
To greet friends gaily; then is gone . . .
        The import may be slight,
But why remained she not hard gazing
        Till I was out of sight?

"O do not chat with others there,"
        I brood. "They are not I.
O strain your thoughts as if they were
        Gold bands between us; eye
All neighbour scenes as so much blankness
        Till I again am by!

"A troubled soughing in the breeze
        And the sky overhead
Let yourself feel; and shadeful trees,
        Ripe corn, and apples red,
Read as things barren and distasteful
        While we are separated!