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On A Midsummer Eve

Topics: classic

I idly cut a parsley stalk,     And blew therein towards the moon;     I had not thought what ghosts would walk     With shivering footsteps to my tune.     I went, and knelt, and scooped my hand     As if to drink, into the brook,     And a faint figure seemed to stand     Above me, with the bygone look.     I lipped rough rhymes of chance, not choice,     I thought not what my words might be;     There came into my ear a voice     That turned a tenderer verse for me.

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"I idly cut a parsley stalk,..."

"On A Midsummer Eve" is a quintessential example of Thomas Hardy's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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