'Man' much missed

Man much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now we are not as we were,
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Moving slowly as you drew near to me,
As we waited for the bus: for I knew you not then,
But noticed your shirt, blue as the deepest sea!

Or is it only the wind, carrying my miseries,
Travelling across the globe to you there,
You being ever dissolved to treasured memories
As you are no longer by me here?

      Thus I; faltering forward,
      Snow around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the coat that I wear,
      And the man calling.







Dare I edit Hardy's poem?  Confound it all...I certainly dare. Lest you accuse me of copyrighting, I hereby state that, few edited words aside, this poem is the intellectual property of Thomas Hardy (OM).

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