The Poetry Corner

The Sun On The Letter

By Thomas Hardy

I drew the letter out, while gleamed The sloping sun from under a roof Of cloud whose verge rose visibly. The burning ball flung rays that seemed Stretched like a warp without a woof Across the levels of the lea To where I stood, and where they beamed As brightly on the page of proof That she had shown her false to me As if it had shown her true - had teemed With passionate thought for my behoof Expressed with their own ardency!