The Puzzled Game-Birds (Triolet)
6/2/1840-1/11/1928
They are not those who used to feed us
When we were young--they cannot be -
These shapes that now bereave and bleed us?
They are not those who used to feed us, -
For would they not fair terms concede us?
- If hearts can house such treachery
They are not those who used to feed us
When we were young--they cannot be!
DayPoems Poem No. 1057
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1057.html">The Puzzled Game-Birds (Triolet) by Thomas Hardy</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
Poets Poems