Wessex Poems by Thomas Hardy - 43/48. In a Eweleaze Near Weatherbury (read by Libby Gohn)

In a yew-lease near Weatherbury The years have gathered grayly Since I danced upon this lease With one who kindled gaily Love's fitful ecstasies. But despite the term as teacher I remain what I was then In each essential feature Of the fantasies of men. Yet I note the little chisel Of never-napping time, Defacing, gassed and grizzle, The blazon of my prime. When at night he thinks me sleeping I feel him boring sly Within my bones and heaping Quaintest pains for by-and-by. Still I'd go to the world with beauty, I would laugh with her and sing, I would shun divinest duty To resume her worshipping. But she'd scorn my brave endeavour, She would not balm the breeze By murmuring, Thine forever, As she did upon this lease.