The Poetry Corner

Unrealized

By Thomas Hardy

Down comes the winter rain - Spoils my hat and bow - Runs into the poll of me; But mother won't know. We've been out and caught a cold, Knee-deep in snow; Such a lucky thing it is That mother won't know! Rosy lost herself last night - Couldn't tell where to go. Yes - it rather frightened her, But mother didn't know. Somebody made Willy drunk At the Christmas show: O 'twas fun! It's well for him That mother won't know! Howsoever wild we are, Late at school or slow, Mother won't be cross with us, Mother won't know. How we cried the day she died! Neighbours whispering low . . . But we now do what we will - Mother won't know.