Thomas Hardy - Molly Gone lyrics

No more summer for Molly and me; There is snow on the tree, And the blackbirds plump large as the rooks are, almost, And the water is hard Where they used to dip bills at the dawn ere her figure was lost To these coasts, now my prison close-barred. No more planting by Molly and me Where the beds used to be Of sweet-william; no training the clambering rose By the framework of fir Now bowering the pathway, whereon it swings gaily and blows As if calling commendment from her. No more jauntings by Molly and me To the town by the sea, Or along over Whitesheet to Wynyard's green Gap, Catching Montacute Crest To the right against Sedgmoor, and Corton-Hill's far-distant cap, And Pilsdon and Lewsdon to west. No more singing by Molly to me In the evenings when she Was in mood and in voice, and the candles were lit, And past the porch-quoin The rays would spring out on the laurels; and dumbledores hit On the pane, as if wishing to join. Where, then, is Molly, who's no more with me? —As I stand on this lea, Thinking thus, there's a many-flamed star in the air, That tosses a sign That her glance is regarding its face from her home, so that there Her eyes may have meetings with mine.