Creak, little wood thing, creak,
When I touch you with elbow or knee;
That is the way you speak
Of one who gave you to me!
You, little table, she brought -
Brought me with her own hand,
As she looked at me with a thought
That I did not understand.
- Whoever owns it anon,
And hears it, will never know
What a history hangs upon
This creak from long ago.
The Little Old Table
Thomas Hardy
(1)
Poem topics: history, never, long, touch, understand, speak, thought, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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About The Little Old Table
The Little Old Table is a poem by Thomas Hardy. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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