Little Willow (slayground) wrote,
Little Willow
slayground

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Poetry Friday: Old Furniture by Thomas Hardy

I know not how it may be with others
Who sit amid relics of householdry
That date from the days of their mothers' mothers,
But well I know how it is with me
Continually.

I see the hands of the generations
That owned each shiny familiar thing
In play on its knobs and indentations,
And with its ancient fashioning
Still dallying:

Hands behind hands, growing paler and paler,
As in a mirror a candle-flame
Shows images of itself, each frailer
As it recedes, though the eye may frame
Its shape the same.

- from Old Furniture by Thomas Hardy
Tags: poetry friday
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