Convergence Of The Twain

Poem By Thomas Hardy

I

In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II

Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III

Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls -- grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV

Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V

Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: 'What does this vaingloriousness down here?'. . .

VI

Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII

Prepared a sinister mate
For her -- so gaily great --
A Shape of Ice, for the time fat and dissociate.

VIII

And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX

Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history.

X

Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one August event,

XI

Till the Spinner of the Years
Said 'Now!' And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.

Comments about Convergence Of The Twain

One of the best poems about the sinking of the 'Titanic' The 'Titanic' and the iceberg were like two hemispheres, which should have stayed separate, but fate ('The Spinner of the Years') decided otherwise. One of the worst-ever tragedies at sea, but what a poem to remember it by.


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Other poems of HARDY

"I Said To Love"

I said to Love,
"It is not now as in old days
When men adored thee and thy ways
   All else above;

A Broken Appointment

You did not come,
And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb.
Yet less for loss of your dear presence there
Than that I thus found lacking in your make

"Between Us Now"

Between us now and here -
   Two thrown together
Who are not wont to wear
   Life's flushest feather -

"How Great My Grief" (Triolet)

How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
- Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,

I Need Not Go

I need not go
Through sleet and snow
To where I know
She waits for me;

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.