The Nettles
This, then, is the grave of my son, Whose heart she won! And nettles grow Upon his mound; and she lives just below. How he upbraided me, and left, And our lives were cleft, because I said She was hard, unfeeling, caring but to wed. Well, to see this sight I have fared these miles, And her firelight smiles from her window there, Whom he left his mother to cherish with tender care! It is enough. I'll turn and go; Yes, nettles grow where lone lies he, Who spurned me for seeing what he could not see.
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"This, then, is the grave of my son,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Thomas Hardy delivers a powerful performance in "The Nettles"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...