Never to bid good-bye Or lip me the softest call, Or utter a wish for a word, while I Saw morning harden upon the wall, Unmoved, unknowing Had place that moment, and altered all.
The poem has to do with a woman his estranged wife, Emma who left suddenly through death. The speaker laments not only her loss, but the loss of the moment when he might have known she was leaving. They have the ghostliness of loss. They hint at something of Donne in my ear and anticipate something of Auden—but they have an idiosyncratic mixture of song-like cadence and stark individual expression.
As I read them over and over, I find myself taken into certain words and phrases. The even-numbered stanzas give no answer, but instead reflect on something that the question brought up. Their stress count pattern is 3 3 4 4 2 2 4. Both stanza types have the same rhyme scheme: The rule does not always hold but describes the overall gist.
Here is the first stanza: Now the second stanza: The third stanza cries: Why do you make me leave the house And think for a breath it is you I see At the end of the alley of bending boughs Where so often at dusk you used to be; aaaaaTill in darkening dankness aaaaaThe yawning blankness Of the perspective sickens me!
Without knowing it, the speaker is emerging into his own life, which to him seems desolate but rings fiercely. Now life is unrolling again as we see in the final stanzabut in a different way, and with different lyric. The next stanza is to me the saddest: Does it really suggest an end to love?
That frail hope that something might be renewed through revisiting—is it really that frail? Yes, it seems that the speaker has accepted the state of things—but this does not prevent or ease his final cry.
I seem but a dead man held on end To sink down soon. There are two levels of foreseeing: Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance. France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty towns of no import: It is about quitting, quiet, utter removal, and thoroughness, all of which come up in the final stanza again.
I like to think about poems on my own before reading what others have to say, unless the criticism is especially compelling in itself in that case, it takes nothing away from my own thinking, but instead spurs thoughts.No wait, this is a Thomas Hardy novel, not going to happen in this one.
I couldn't even make a guess at what inspired the author to write this work, perhaps an article in the paper or combination of articles.
The Going by Thomas attheheels.com did you give no hint that night That quickly after the morrows dawn And calmly as if indifferent quite You would close your term here up and be. . Thomas Hardy, the son of a stonemason, was born in Dorset, England, on June 2, He trained as an architect and worked in London and Dorset for ten years.
Hardy began his writing career as a novelist, publishing Desperate Remedies (Tinsley Brothers) in , and was soon successful enough to leave the field of architecture for writing. This is not a review of the story. Hardy is one of my favorite authors, and this story is ranked very high in my list of go-to re-reads.
But the editing that went into the digital version of this classic is truly terrible. There are typos, and misspellings, missing punctuation and spacing.
Jan 28, · When Thomas Hardy drew his first chancy breaths inside a Dorset cottage in , Wordsworth had yet to become England’s poet laureate.
By his ninth decade, still writing, Hardy . Dec 01, · “The Going” is a poem I have loved since high school 55 years ago.
It touched me then, and it still grabs me emotionally about loss and/or death. I appreciated also your studied analysis of .