Thomas Hardy — The Chimes

That morning when I trod the town The twitching chimes of long renown         Played out to me The sweet Sicilian sailors' tune, And I knew not if late or soon          My day would be: A day of sunshine beryl-bright And windless; yea, think as I might,         I could not say, Even to within years' measure, when One would be at my side who then         Was far away. When hard utilitarian times Had stilled the sweet Saint-Peter's chimes         I learnt to see That bale may spring where blisses are, And one desired might be afar         Though near to me.