PAYING CALLS

By Thomas Hardy

I went by footpath and by stile

Beyond where bustle ends,

Strayed here a mile and there a mile

And called upon some friends.

On certain ones I had not seen

For years past did I call,

And then on others who had been

The oldest friends of all.

It was the time of midsummer

When they had used to roam;

But now, though tempting was the air,

I found them all at home.

I spoke to one and other of them

By mound and stone and tree

Of things we had done ere days were dim,

But they spoke not to me.