[R. S. Gwynn]

Not one of Hardy's best, perhaps, with some echoes of "Channel Firing" and other poems. Still, there's this:

Thenceforth no flying fires inflamed the gray,
No hurtlings shook the dewdrop from the thorn,
No moan perplexed the mute bird on the spray;
Worn horses mused: "We are not whipped to-day";
No weft-winged engines blurred the moon's thin horn.

"No weft-winged engines blurred the moon's thin horn" is pure Hardy and, thus, as good as anyone.