I Looked Up from My Writing [audio mp3="https://bdavidhagen.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/hardy-i-looked-up-from-my-writing.mp3"][/audio]
I looked up from my writing,
And gave a start to see,
As if rapt in my inditing,
The moon's full gaze on me.
Her meditative misty head
Was spectral in its air,
And I involuntarily said,
'What are you doing there?'
'Oh, I've been scanning pond and hole
And waterway hereabout
For the body of one with a sunken soul
Who has put his life-light out.
'Did you hear his frenzied tattle?
It was sorrow for his son
Who is slain in brutish battle,
Though he has injured none.
'And now I am curious to look
Into the blinkered mind
Of one who wants to write a book
In a world of such a kind.'
Her temper overwrought me,
And I edged to shun her view,
For I felt assured she thought me
One who should drown him too.
– Thomas Hardy, The Poetry of World War I (OUP), pp. 10-11