Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
9. She, At His Funeral
T
In slow procession sweeping by;
I follow at a stranger’s space;
His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
Though sable-sad is their attire;
But they stand round with griefless eye,
Whilst my regret consumes like fire!