Thomas Hardy — The marble-streeted town

I reach the marble-streeted town,        &nbsp Whose “Sound” outbreathes its air        &nbsp       &nbsp Of sharp sea-salts; I see the movement up and down        &nbsp       &nbsp As when she was there. Ships of all countries come and go,        &nbsp The bandsmen boom in the sun        &nbsp       &nbsp A throbbing waltz; The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe        &nbsp       &nbsp As when she was one. I move away as the music rolls:        &nbsp The place seems not to mind        &nbsp       &nbsp That she - of old The brightest of its native souls -        &nbsp       &nbsp Left it behind! Over this green aforedays she        &nbsp On light treads went and came,        &nbsp       &nbsp Yea, times untold; Yet none here knows her history -        &nbsp       &nbsp Has heard her name.