Thomas Hardy · 1917
Afterwards
Thomas Hardy · 1917
When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, "He was a man who used to notice such things"? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, "To him this must have been a familiar sight." If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone"? If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom, "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?
Public domain in the UK and the US · serany.app
What Serany thinks about this poem
Background
Hardy published it in 1917, in his late seventies. He lived another eleven years.
Meaning
He's wondering what people will say about him once he's gone. He hopes they'll say he noticed things: the leaves in May, a hawk at dusk, a hedgehog crossing the lawn.
Who's it for
Someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.
More outdoorsy poems
10 in all
More emotional poems
10 in all
More gentle poems
14 in all
Now put it in the order of service
Try our order of service builder. Add the poems, songs and readings you have chosen, and we put the booklet together around them.
Make an order of service