A Meeting With Despair

AS evening shaped I found me on a moor
Which sight could scarce sustain:
The black lean land, of featureless contour,
Was like a tract in pain.

"This scene, like my own life," I said, "is one
Where many glooms abide;
Toned by its fortune to a deadly dun--
Lightless on every side.

I glanced aloft and halted, pleasure-caught
To see the contrast there:
The ray-lit clouds gleamed glory; and I thought,
"There's solace everywhere!"

Then bitter self-reproaches as I stood
I dealt me silently
As one perverse--misrepresenting Good
In graceless mutiny.

Against the horizon's dim-descernèd wheel
A form rose, strange of mould:
That he was hideous, hopeless, I could feel
Rather than could behold.

"'Tis a dead spot, where even the light lies spent
To darkness!" croaked the Thing.
"Not if you look aloft!" said I, intent
On my new reasoning.

"Yea--but await awhile!" he cried. "Ho-ho!--
Look now aloft and see!"
I looked. There, too, sat night: Heaven's radiant show
Had gone. Then chuckled he.

by Thomas Hardy

Comments (11)

A beautiful poem and despair seems to be the theme.
Total dead spot. Not there. There. Get outa there.
Chillingly eerie and atmospheric. Great description of despair and hopelessness. Yet is there redemption and hope? This the poet leaves us to decide.
Really awesome piece of work... I recommend to read all the works by Thomas Hardy to be read will the same passion that we show for William Shakesphere and William Wordsworth and any other poet of the Classics, then only we will be able to know the real depth of the thought of this poet.
Despair, is the right word. Going from a dark form, into the black abyss of infinity.
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