Thomas Hardy

Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries, with Miscellaneous Pieces Thomas Hardy

Plunging and labouring on in a tide of visions, Dolorous and dear, Forward I pushed my way as amid waste watersStretching around, Through whose eddies there glimmered the customed landscapeYonder and near, Blotted to feeble mist. And the coomb and the uplandFoliage-crowned, Ancient chalk-pit, milestone, rills in the grass-flatStroked by the light, Seemed but a ghost-like gauze, and no substantialMeadow or mound. What were the infinite spectacles bulking foremostUnder my sight, Hindering me to discern my paced advan