Thomas Hardy — On the tune called The Old-hundred-and-fourth

We never sang together        &nbsp Ravenscroft’s terse old tune On Sundays or on weekdays, In sharp or summer weather,        &nbsp At night-time or at noon. Why did we never sing it,        &nbsp Why never so incline On Sundays or on weekdays, Even when soft wafts would wing it        &nbsp From your far floor to mine? Shall we that tune, then, never        &nbsp Stand voicing side by side On Sundays or on weekdays? . . . Or shall we, when for ever        &nbsp In Sheol we abide, Sing it in desolation,        &nbsp As we might long have done On Sundays or on weekdays With love and exultation        &nbsp Before our sands had run?