I reach the marble-streeted town,
Whose "Sound" outbreathes its air
Of sharp sea-salts;
I see the movement up and down
As when she was there.
Ships of all countries come and go,
The bandsmen boom in the sun
A throbbing waltz;
The schoolgirls laugh along the Hoe
As when she was one.
I move away as the music rolls:
The place seems not to mind
That she of old
The brightest of its native souls -
Left it behind!
Over this green aforedays she
On light treads went and came,
Yea, times untold;
Yet none here knows her history -
Has heard her name.
PLYMOUTH (1914?).
The Marble-streeted Town
Thomas Hardy
(1)
Poem topics: away, green, history, light, music, sea, sun, place, town, mind, laugh, sharp, movement, reach, sound, native, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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