The Rambler by Thomas Hardy
I do not see the hills around,
Nor mark the tints the copses wear;
I do not note the grassy ground
And constellated daisies there.
I hear not the contralto note
Of cuckoos hid on either hand,
The whirr that shakes the nighthawk's throat
When eve's brown awning hoods the land.
Some say each songster, tree and mead--
All eloquent of love divine--
Receives their constant careful heed:
Such keen appraisement is not mine.
The tones around me that I hear,
The aspects, meanings, shapes I see,
Are those far back ones missed when near,
And now perceived too late by me!
I just finished 'Far From the Madding Crowd' this past week, my first Thomas Hardy novel, which I feel will be the beginning of a very long and very fulfilling relationship. I can't wait to get stuck into more of his work. As such, I thought it would only be appropriate to feature one of his poems in this week's 'Sunday in Verse' alongside photos of a recent visit to Mount Stewart, a National Trust property, with my mum. I know the photos and poem don't match up too well this week but the notion of only appreciating the beauty of a moment or place on reflection of it really resonated with me. Especially in the Age of Instagram when we're in such a rush to share our experiences sometimes we fail to fully appreciate them.
Hope you've all had a lovely weekend!
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