Thomas Hardy — I Looked Up From My Writing

I looked up from my writing,         And gave a start to see, As if rapt in my inditing,         The moon's full gaze on me. Her meditative misty head         Was spectral in its air, And I involuntarily said,         "What are you doing there?" "Oh, I've been scanning pond and hole         And waterway hereabout For the body of one with a sunken soul         Who has put his life-light out. "Did you hear his frenzied tattle?         It was sorrow for his son Who is slain in brutish battle,         Though he has injured none. "And now I am curious to look         Into the blinkered mind Of one who wants to write a book         In a world of such a kind." Her temper overwrought me,         And I edged to shun her view, For I felt assured she thought me         One who should drown him too.