Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
2. Amabel
I
Her custom-straitened views,
And asked, “Can there indwell
My Amabel?”
Once rose, now earthen brown;
The change was like the knell
Of Amabel.
Had lost the life of May’s;
Her laugh, once sweet in swell,
Spoilt Amabel.
I sang ere warmth did wane?
Who thinks its numbers spell
His Amabel?”—
Love’s race shows undecrease;
All find in dorp or dell
An Amabel.
To some housetop, and weep,
That Time the tyrant fell
Ruled Amabel!
That love like ours had died),
“Fond things I’ll no more tell
To Amabel,
And fling across the gate,
‘Till the Last Trump, farewell,
O Amabel!’”