T Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy

328 şiir · 1840 — 1928 · Dorchester

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Thomas Hardy was born June 2, 1840, in the village of Upper Bockhampton, located in Southwestern England. His father was a stone mason and a violinist. His mother enjoyed reading and relating all the folk songs and legends of the region. Between his parents, Hardy gained all the interests that would appear in his novels and his own life: his love for architecture and music, his interest in the lifestyles of the country folk, and his passion for all sorts of literature. At the age of eight, Hardy began to attend Julia Martin's school in Bockhampton. However, most of his education came from the books he found in Dorchester, the nearby town. He learned French, German, and Latin by teaching himself through these books. At sixteen, Hardy's father apprenticed his son to a local architect, John Hicks. Under Hicks' tutelage, Hardy learned much about architectural drawing and restoring old houses and churches. Hardy loved the apprenticeship because it allowed him to learn the histories of the houses and the families that lived there. Despite his work, Hardy did not forget his academics: in the evenings, Hardy would study with the Greek scholar Horace Moule. In 1862, Hardy was sent to London to work with the architect Arthur Blomfield. During his five years in London, Hardy immersed himself in the cultural scene by visiting the museums and theaters and studying classic literature. He even began to write his own poetry. Although he did not stay in London, choosing to return to Dorchester as a church restorer, he took his newfound talent for writing to Dorchester as well. From 1867, Hardy wrote poetry and novels, though the first part of his career was devoted to the novel. At first he published anonymously, but when people became interested in his works, he began to use his own name. Like Dickens, Hardy's novels were published in serial forms in magazines that were popular in both England and America. His first popular novel was Under the Greenwood Tree, published in 1872. The next great novel, Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) was so popular that with the profits, Hardy was able to give up architecture and marry Emma Gifford. Other popular novels followed in quick succession: The Return of the Native (1878), The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), The Woodlanders (1887), Tess of the D'Urbervilles (1891), and Jude the Obscure (1895). In addition to these larger works, Hardy published three collections of short stories and five smaller novels, all moderately successful. However, despite the praise Hardy's fiction received, many critics also found his works to be too shocking, especially Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure. The outcry against Jude was so great that Hardy decided to stop writing novels and return to his first great love, poetry. Over the years, Hardy had divided his time between his home, Max Gate, in Dorchester and his lodgings in London. In his later years, he remained in Dorchester to focus completely on his poetry. In 1898, he saw his dream of becoming a poet realized with the publication of Wessex Poems. He then turned his attentions to an epic drama in verse, The Dynasts; it was finally completed in 1908. Before his death, he had written over 800 poems, many of them published while he was in his eighties. By the last two decades of Hardy's life, he had achieved fame as great as Dickens' fame. In 1910, he was awarded the Order of Merit. New readers had also discovered his novels by the publication of the Wessex Editions, the definitive versions of all Hardy's early works. As a result, Max Gate became a literary shrine. Hardy also found happiness in his personal life. His first wife, Emma, died in 1912. Although their marriage had not been happy, Hardy grieved at her sudden death. In 1914, he married Florence Dugale, and she was extremely devoted to him. After his death, Florence published Hardy's autobiography in two parts under her own name. After a long and highly successful life, Thomas Hardy died on January 11, 1928, at the age of 87. His ashes were buried in Poets' Corner at Westminster Abbey.)

  • Poetry
  • Collected Poems of Thomas Hardy (Macmillan, 1920)
  • Moments of Vision (Macmillan, 1917)
  • Selected Poems of Thomas Hardy (Macmillan, 1916)
  • Satires of Circumstance (Macmillan, 1914)
  • Time’s Laughingstocks (Macmillan, 1909)
  • The Dynasts (Macmillan, 1904)
  • Poems of the Past and the Present (Harper & Bros., 1902)
  • Letters
  • Jude the Obscure (Osgood McIlvaine & Co., 1895)
  • Tess of the D'Urbervilles (Osgood McIlvaine & Co., 1891)
  • The Woodlanders (Harper & Bros., 1887)
  • The Mayor of Casterbridge (J. W. Lovell, 1886)
  • Two on a Tower (J. W. Lovell, 1882)
  • A Laodicean (Harper & Bros., 1881)
  • The Trumpet Major (Henry Holt & Co., 1880)
  • The Return of the Native (Henry Holt & Co., 1878)
  • Far from the Madding Crowd (Smith, Elder & Co., 1876)
  • The Hand of Ethelberta (Henry Holt & Co., 1876)
  • A Pair of Blue Eyes (Henry Holt & Co., 1873)
  • Under the Greenwood Tree (Tinsley Brothers, 1872)
  • Desperate Remedies (Tinsley Brothers, 1871)

Thomas Hardy şiirleri

Arama yardımı

You did not come, And marching Time drew on, and wore me numb. Yet less for loss of your dear presence there Than that I thus found lacking in your make…

South of the Line, inland from far Durban, A mouldering soldier lies- your countryman. Awry and doubled up are his gray bones, And on the breeze his puzzled phantom moans…

İngilizce

As 'legal representative' I read a missive not my own, On new designs the senders give For clothes, in tints as shown.…

The day is turning ghost, And scuttles from the kalendar in fits and furtively, To join the anonymous host Of those that throng oblivion; ceding his place, maybe,…

1

YOUR troubles shrink not, though I feel them less Here, far away, than when I tarried near; I even smile old smiles--with listlessness-- Yet smiles they are, not ghastly mockeries…

İngilizce

The Fire at Tranter Sweatley's THEY had long met o' Zundays--her true love and she-- And at junketings, maypoles, and flings;…

Beeny did not quiver, Juliot grew not gray, Thin Valency's river Held its wonted way.…

İngilizce

Why go to Saint-Juliot? What's Juliot to me? I've been but made fancy By some necromancy That much of my life claims the spot as its key.…

I come to interview a Voiceless ghost; Whither, O whither will its whim now draw me? Up the cliff, down, till I'm lonely, lost, And the unseen waters' soliloquies awe me.…

İngilizce

Knight, a true sister-love This heart retains; Ask me no other love, That way lie pains!…

Come again to the place Where your presence was as a leaf that skims Down a drouthy way whose ascent bedims The bloom on the farer's face.…

İngilizce

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours s…

"Ah, are you digging on my grave, My loved one? -- planting rue?" -- "No: yesterday he went to wed One of the brightest wealth has bred.…

Who were the twain that trod this track So many times together Hither and back, In spells of certain and uncertain weather?…

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