Thomas Hardy — The Child and the Sage

You say, O Sage, when weather-checked,        &nbsp “I have been favoured so With cloudless skies, I must expect        &nbsp This dash of rain or snow.” “Since health has been my lot,” you say,        &nbsp “So many months of late, I must not chafe that one short day        &nbsp Of sickness mars my state.” You say, “Such bliss has been my share        &nbsp From Love’s unbroken smile, It is but reason I should bear        &nbsp A cross therein awhile.” And thus you do not count upon        &nbsp Continuance of joy; But, when at ease, expect anon        &nbsp A burden of annoy. But, Sage - this Earth - why not a place        &nbsp Where no reprisals reign, Where never a spell of pleasantness        &nbsp Makes reasonable a pain?