Thomas Hardy — A Gentlemans Epitaph on Himself and a Lady

I dwelt in the shade of a city,        &nbsp She far by the sea, With folk perhaps good, gracious, witty;        &nbsp But never with me. Her form on the ballroom’s smooth flooring        &nbsp I never once met, To guide her with accents adoring        &nbsp Through Weippert’s “First Set.” I spent my life’s seasons with pale ones        &nbsp In Vanity Fair, And she enjoyed hers among hale ones        &nbsp In salt-smelling air. Maybe she had eyes of deep colour,        &nbsp Maybe they were blue, Maybe as she aged they got duller;        &nbsp That never I knew. She may have had lips like the coral,        &nbsp But I never kissed them, Saw pouting, nor curling in quarrel,        &nbsp Nor sought for, nor missed them. Not a word passed of love all our lifetime,        &nbsp Between us, nor thrill; We’d never a husband-and-wife time,        &nbsp For good or for ill. Yet as one dust, through bleak days and vernal,        &nbsp Lie I and lies she, This never-known lady, eternal        &nbsp Companion to me!