Thomas Hardy: June 2, 1840--Jan. 11, 1928

In his prose and poetry, Thomas Hardy often celebrated the heroism of the individual's struggle to survive in an uncaring universe, but he seldom, if ever, glorifies the great human institutions--government, the church, war. In truth, he saw them as another enemy to fight against.

This poem is typical, I think.


Departure
(Southhampton Docks, October 1899)

While the far farewell music thins and fails,
And the broad bottoms rip the bearing brine--
All smalling slowly to the gray sea-line--
And each significant red smoke-shaft pales,

Keen sense of severance everywhere prevails,
Which shapes the late long tramp of mounting men
To seeming words that ask and ask again:
"How long, O striving Teutons, Slavs, and Gaels

Must your wroth reasonings trade on lives like these,
That are as puppets in a playing hand?--
When shall the saner softer polities
Whereof we dream, have sway in each proud land
and patriotism, grown Godlike, scorn to stand
Bondslave to realms, but circle earth and seas?"


I think that dream hasn't gotten any closer since Hardy wrote this poem. Frankly, I doubt that I will see it in my lifetime.