Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

I

Looking forward to the spring
One puts up with anything.
On this February day,
Though the winds leap down the street,
Wintry scourgings seem but play,
And these later shafts of sleet
— Sharper pointed than the first —
And these later snows — the worst —
Are as a half-transparent blind
Riddled by rays from sun behind.

II

Shadows of the October pine
Reach into this room of mine:
On the pine there stands a bird;
He is shadowed with the tree.
Mutely perched he bills no word;
Blank as I am even is he.
For those happy suns are past,
Fore-discerned in winter last.
When went by their pleasure, then?
I, alas, perceived not when.

I found this poem interesting because it is from his Satires of Circumstance, lyrics and reveries with miscellaneous pieces. It is unlike most of the poems in that book and almost seems like Hardy is channeling Robert Frost.

The first two lines remind me of Frost:

Looking forward to the spring
One puts up with anything

As with many of Hardy’s poems, Time is this hidden presence but life-altering nonetheless. And here is a poem with summer in the title, but evokes everything outside of summer. What is he getting at? I am not entirely sure.

I read this as a missive on how our lives fly by us without notice--until, of course, they are gone. Summer represents happiness for me. Spring is the anticipation we feel when things seem to be turning for the good, winter the sadness and absence we feel when the time has passed. The peaceful time, the good time, the moments of joy are fleeting...and like the summer, we barely notice them until they are gone.

I have had a great loss recently and I view my life in much this way. We live so much of it just taking for granted the everyday good things, the presence of that other person, then we find it is gone, as if snatched away in the night. The sleet comes down in shards and bombards us and then we see all those pleasant days of wonder that are surrounded by the waiting for it to begin on one end and the loss of it on the other.

Thank you for this poem. It has, as you can see, a very personal meaning for me. I am interested in seeing how others view it, since I know I am layering it with my own personal circumstance.

Aging came to mind when I was reading the poem. Hardy wrote this when he was 70 years old in 1910, although it was not published until 1914. The years go by in a cycle, but things get more difficult as one ages. We've read other poems by Hardy that mention the winter and autumn months that have been upbeat, but this one seems more negative. He's remembering the "happy suns" of the past and "looking forward to spring" in the cycle of life.

I liked Sara's thoughtful personal thoughts on the poem. In many ways aging also involves loss. Other people may think of other types of losses. "Summer" in the title represents whatever was bright, sunny, and happy in one's life.

John, thank you for sharing another lovely poem with us.

I really enjoyed this poem too - and the comments from Sara and Connie afterwards as well. It's another new one for me, and I agree John that it is atypical, and interesting that it called Robert Frost to mind for you. I can see what you mean, now you have alerted me to it 😊

So Thomas Hardy was my age when he wrote this ... I'm sure you are all right that it is about aging, although I took it literally as I am so cold at the moment! 😟Here in England it seems as though Summer will never come, so when I saw the title I thought what about the middle bit? 😂

But yes, it conjures up a feeling of melancholy, and will probably speak to each individual. A lovely "extra" poem to finish our current spate of poetry readings. Thank you so much yet again, John.

(Now linked)

I am sometimes amazed that a poem like this one does not make the cut for a Selected Poem edition. I think it has been overlooked as one of his better poems.

I, too, did not know what to make of it when I first read this poem. It just didn't feel like a Hardy effort.

But Connie's contributions about his age sound so right to me when I read it again. As I've gotten older, I've felt that the days are just slipping by me and I'm not paying as much attention to them as I did when I was younger. It is making me think about that.

Thanks all for the comments. Looks like the schedule shows another poem for next weekend.

John. I'm messaging you ... and thanks!

I know I'm a late comer, but I've just had a chance to read through this lovely poem. Thank you John!

I love Sara's personal interpretation, and everyone's comments about aging. I think those are all spot on. And the poem strikes that chord in my heart as well.

When I read the first stanza, I thought it positive and playful. Commenting on how people wear "rose-colored glasses" in the winter and can't see the weather for what it actually is. The last lines are what led me to that thought. The sharp sleet and the worse snow are "half-transparent" to the narrator, because they are obscured by the sun coming through from behind. It sounded like someone who is always trying to look for the positive in the gloom.

But then the second stanza starts with "shadows" and goes on to be very melancholy, with silent birds and happy suns in the past. And there I think, this is a Thomas Hardy poem after all. Because I never think of Thomas Hardy as writing with rose-colored glasses on.

Are as a half-transparent blind
Riddled by rays from sun behind

This is another poem that I read for the first time yesterday; and again, I appreciated all of the insightful comments above. I'd never particularly thought much about similarities between Hardy and Frost! But both men were very attuned to the natural world and its cycles, often in relation to hands-on agricultural cycles (Frost actually did work a farm, and Hardy was steeped in the culture of Dorset farmers), and they both found in it the stuff of poetry, and of metaphoric life lessons.

When I first read this, like Jean, I was thinking of its direct application to the changing seasons --how in late winter we anticipate the coming of warm weather, and in late summer we look ahead forebodingly to the coming cold. That meaning was in Hardy's mind, I think, and it speaks of an always-renewed cyclic process. But reading the comments above have convinced me that he also had in mind the secondary meaning of the seasons of a person's life; and of course those are a one-time progression, not a cycle.

It's so good to have your thoughts here, Werner.

Thank you, Jean! (Although they're far from being very profound thoughts! :-) )