I guess it's just a matter of taste. I do like many Hardy poems, but none of them has become a favorite in the way that, say, Robinson's "Dear Friends" has become a favorite. There's a smoothness and sophistication in that poem which is nowhere to be found in any of Hardy's work, even in his most famous poem about the thrush (I forgot what it's called). Actually, this simple poem by Hardy has become a favorite, but it doesn't "send me" like some other poems I've read:
Expectation and Experience
"I had a holiday once," said the woman--
~~ Her name I did not know--
"And I thought that where I'd like to go,
Of all the places for being jolly,
And getting rid of melancholy,
~~ Would be to a good big fair:
And I went. And it rained in torrents, drenching
Every horse, and sheep, and yeoman,
~~ And my shoulders, face, and hair;
And I found that I was the single woman
~~ In the field—and looked quite odd there!
Everything was spirit-quenching:
I crept and stood in the lew of a wall
To think, and could not tell at all
~~ What on earth made me plod there!"
I understand why you like Hardy, Alicia, as there seems to be a little Hardy in you, as in this poem of yours which most certainly
has become a favorite of mine:
Consolation for Tamar
on the occasion of her breaking
an ancient pot
You know I am no archeologist, Tamar,
And that to me it is all one dust or another.
Still, it must mean something to survive the weather
Of the Ages--earthquake, flood, and war--
Only to shatter in your very hands.
Perhaps it was gravity, or maybe fated--
Although I wonder if it had not waited
Those years in drawers, aeons in distant lands,
And in your fingers' music, just a little
Was emboldened by your blood, and so forgot
That it was not a rosebud, but a pot,
And, trying to unfold for you, was brittle.
Alicia E. Stallings
This poem of yours (which I hope you don't mind that I posted) has more sophisticated and interesting syntax than I find in most Hardy poems. In a way, I feel that you do Hardy better than Hardy does. You speak plainly, using familiar speech patterns and phrasing, but with more elegance.
Just taking a look at the last stanza alone, I find it filled with unique and memorable phrases: "your fingers' music", "Was emboldened by your blood", "forgot/That it was not a rosebud", and "trying to unfold for you, was brittle". A memorable phrase in every line! There's not a wasted word in this entire poem -- it's just wonderful.
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Caleb
www.poemtree.com
[This message has been edited by Caleb Murdock (edited August 08, 2001).]