Thomas Hardy — We Sat At The Window

(Bournemouth, 1875) We sat at the window looking out, And the rain came down like silken strings That Swithin's day. Each gutter and spout Babbled unchecked in the busy way          Of witless things: Nothing to read, nothing to see Seemed in that room for her and me         On Swithin's day. We were irked by the scene, by our own selves; yes, For I did not know, nor did she infer How much there was to read and guess By her in me, and to see and crown          By me in her. Wasted were two souls in their prime, And great was the waste, that July time          When the rain came down.