Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter – winged, horned, and spined –
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ’mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands.

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
– My guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
‘God’s humblest, they!’ I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

This poem was written at Max Gate around 1896. It reminds me of John Donne’s style — immediate and perceptive. The first two lines are almost like haiku. The humblest of things with the largest secrets. And the secrets are unknowable.

I had to look up the meaning of dumbledore since I just associate it with Harry Potter! It's a bumblebee.

Wonderful observations, John. The poem is lovely as it sets the scene in the first stanza, and comes to an important realization in the last line. The beat of the clock reminds us that insects were here before us in Time. Insects are survivors, and they will be here on Earth long after we are gone.

I love how Hardy is so observant of Nature in his poems, even writing about insects which many people would just ignore. He respects them and calls them "my guests."

Connie wrote: "I had to look up the meaning of dumbledore since I just associate it with Harry Potter! It's a bumblebee.

Wonderful observations, John. The poem is lovely as it sets the scene in the first stanza,..."

I had not yet looked up dumbledore. Thanks Connie. I have to I really like that word.

What a charming little poem. Thus meet we five, in this still place, / At this point of time, at this point in space. Hardy sparely yet vividly captures this gathering of Earth's creatures. It is a gathering, but not an assembly as such. The narrator, and indeed the insects, each retain a separateness. There is no particular meaningful interaction, other than to inspire questioning in the narrator. I sometimes think similarly of some online interactions, where we gather: the winged, the horned and the spined! I do sense the desire for communion within the lines of the verse. Therein, I believe, lies the meaning of the poem. Or rather, how I interpret it at this (my own) point of time.

‘God’s humblest, they!’ I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

I am immediately reminded of the final lines of The Darkling Thrush. Interestingly, these were both written in the same year (1899).

Jane, I had to look up the final lines of "The Darkling Thrush":

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Nice comparison!

Connie wrote: "Jane, I had to look up the final lines of "The Darkling Thrush."

Thanks, Connie. Both poems speak of the attempt to understand the 'hopes' or 'secrets' of these other creatures, who seem to be getting on with their lives quite contentedly, if not (as in The Darkling Thrush) joyfully. In regard to wondering what their secret is, I share Hardy's curiosity. I ask the same questions of my fellow humans, too; there seems to be a secret code I do not understand!

I first came across "dumbledore" when Elizabeth Jane calls bees that, in The Mayor of Casterbridge. She says it is a local Dorset dialect word.

Jane wrote: " I ask the same questions of my fellow humans too, there seems to be a secret code I do not understand!"

I think every person of sensitivity feels that way sometimes! :)

Wonderful thoughts everyone! I like your distinction between gathering and assembly Jane.

Like Connie, I was struck by how Hardy pays attention to the humble things (in this case insects) that many would disregard or ignore. But here, he just enjoys a moment of peaceful.communion with them. As you say Jane, no practical exchange happens, but there's a fellowship of humility and respect that I appreciate very much.

It reminds me of a poem by Denise Levertov, "Come Into Animal Presence." There are many types of communion that do not require understanding. Hardy was not a mystic as far as I know, but it's the sort of poem a mystic might write.

Greg wrote: "It reminds me of a poem by Denise Levertov, "Come Into Animal Presence."

That's a lovely poem, Greg. I understand that joy of even a brief acknowledgement from the animal kingdom (though where I live it is more likely going to come from a goat than an armadillo). We can certainly learn much from their disregard of human approval.

I wonder what Hardy meant by 'Earth-secrets'. Some seem to link it to the theory of evolution. My initial thought was along the lines of the meaning or purpose of existence. In which case, I feel that any answers that reside within the inexorable instincts of these humble creatures likely do not apply to us.

Jane wrote: "I wonder what Hardy meant by 'Earth-secrets'. Some seem to link it to the theory of evolution. My initial thought was along the lines of the meaning or purpose of existence. In which case, I feel t..."

I was thinking that every creature on Earth has their own instincts and gifts, and views life a little differently than another creature. For example, bees have a unique social structure, and moths and butterflies go through metamorphosis. Flies have sensitive eyes. Every species has its own "secrets," but they may be different than the gifts that humans have.

Hardy was writing about insects here, but he had a strong regard for any creature. In his will, he left money to two organizations whose mission was to prevent cruelty to animals.

"Come Into Animal Presence" is a beautiful poem, Greg. It also gives a feeling of appreciation of the natural world, even though we may not have the same feelings or understandings as other creatures.

Connie wrote: "I was thinking that every creature on Earth has their own instincts and gifts, and views life a little differently than another creature."

Absolutely, Connie! As do humans. That's interesting that you think Hardy was musing on animal behaviour. Perhaps I could be reading too much into this poem.

Jane wrote: "Connie wrote: "I was thinking that every creature on Earth has their own instincts and gifts, and views life a little differently than another creature."

Absolutely, Connie! As do humans. That's i..."

You have good thoughts, Jane, and humans are creatures of the Earth too. Earth's Secrets can be all that we mentioned - behavior, instincts, evolution, and the purpose of life. We're still trying to figure it out like Hardy was. I used insect examples because Hardy called them "God's humblest," but the ideas could certainly apply to others.

‘God’s humblest, they!’ I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

I love your thoughts on earth-secrets Connie and Jane!

The "earth-secrets" made me think of a scene from Tess of the D'Urbervilles where Hardy muses that Tess and Angel would never had behaved in such foolish ways if they had behaved as their natural selves rather than as the more artificial human culture dictated with its traditions and its cultural mores. I'll have to find my book to locate the exact chapter. But I can well believe that Hardy might find some wisdom in the animals' natural instincts and their closeness to the natural world.

I can't speak for Hardy in this, but for myself, there can be a feeling of design or of secret knowledge underlying those instincts for a person with a mystical bent . . . the way sometimes a dog can smell cancer and alert an owner to it or the way cats can sense an imminent earthquake through vibrations or the way birds know to flee some impending disasters. Sometimes when I look into my cats' eyes, I feel that there are mysteries that they know. And sometimes I feel the touch of Mystery in nature when I am in a remote place. I think of the way Jack London describes Northern dogs having strange atavistic dreams of primitive times, of cavemen around a fire. That is what I think of when I hear "Earth-secrets," but I have no idea if Hardy thought like this.

Connie, I am so happy to hear that Hardy donated to animal causes. That warms my heart!

What illuminating comments. I had already come across this poem before so it was nice to read it again. I like the way Hardy sets up the scene in the first two lines with the man made objects, lamp, blind pen before the insects take over his interest and the poem. He almost welcomes this interruption to his writing so he can observe them and their Earth-secrets when he might have swatted at them or worse. It shows a respect for the humblest things in nature.
I wonder what others think of the last two lines where the rhyme is disrupted. Is there a reason for this! It feels rather abrupt.

I know which part of Tess you mean, Greg. That's a great connection! I can relate to all your comments. Connie's too! I like how it's possible to look at this from different angles and rather than dilute the meaning, it merely enhances its scope. It's certainly a poem with ambiguity enough for personalisation.

Natalie wrote: "I wonder what others think of the last two lines where the rhyme is disrupted. Is there a reason for this!"

One thing I wondered about the last two lines is why, as a self confessed agnostic, Hardy chose to call them 'God’s humblest'. Is this in some way connected to what Hardy meant by 'Earth-secrets'? I mentioned earlier that the last two lines made me think of the last lines of The Darkling Thrush, where he speaks of 'Some blessed Hope'. By mentioning god, this makes me think the nature of the secrets he yearns for are not behavioural, biological or evolutionary, but something, as Greg suggested, that can be called mystical (or spiritual). I can see Connie's point of view, too—that it's all connected. As an atheist who has had similar feelings described by Greg in comment # 18, this is something I can relate to.

Interesting question, Jane. Hardy (1840-1928) became an agnostic around the age of 27 when he was influenced by Darwin. This was around 30 years prior to writing this poem in 1899. It seemed like he still had an emotional attachment to his childhood church, and had played the violin for the services during his childhood.

I'm wondering if he wrote "God" and "Some blessed Hope" more as a cultural idea. We often see poems referring to Orpheus or Zeus or Diana written by poets that don't consider Roman or Greek deities to be part of their personal beliefs, but part of Western culture.

Connie wrote: "I'm wondering if he wrote "God" and "Some blessed Hope" more as a cultural idea. We often see poems referring to Orpheus or Zeus or Diana written by poets that don't consider Roman or Greek deities to be part of their personal beliefs, but part of Western culture."

I think that's likely it, Connie. He never quite rid himself of certain religious attachments, as you say. I also think there was a gap left behind where belief used to reside.

Natalie wrote: "What illuminating comments. I had already come across this poem before so it was nice to read it again. I like the way Hardy sets up the scene in the first two lines with the man made objects, lamp..."

Natalie, I also liked the juxtaposition of the man-made articles and the living creatures. The image of the insects hitting the lamp shade and falling "supine" even makes me chuckle a little.

I've been thinking about the title of this poem, and the use of the word "August". When I first started reading, I assumed Hardy meant the month of "August", because I find insects are much more prevalent in that hot summer month (at least where I live).

This might have been obvious to all of you, but after finishing the poem, I wondered if he means "august" - with a lower case "a" - something that inspires reverence or admiration. It's a rather grand word to apply to humble insects. I like how that interpretation fits with the final lines.

Bridget wrote: "I wondered if he means "august" - with a lower case "a" - something that inspires reverence or admiration. It's a rather grand word to apply to humble insects. I like how that interpretation fits with the final lines.

Bridget, that didn't occur to me, but I absolutely love this interpretation! You are right, it does fit very well with the tone of the poem.

Yes, Bridget, I also found your interpretation of the title both fitting and lovely! Beautifully expressed!

I love everyone's thoughts here, especially Bridget's inspired observation on the double meaning of August/august!

As John said, it was written in 1896 ... actually I have 1899, but at any rate it was a very early poem, published in his second poetry collection called Poems of the Past and the Present in 1901.

This collection includes a wide variety of topics and is divided into five headings, and includes some of Thomas Hardy’s most powerful poems, before he became quite so disillusioned. He was always interested in natural history, and the relationship between humans and nature. It comes through as a positive force here, as friends have noted.

Here we have a lovely lyrical poem in which we clearly identify Thomas Hardy himself "penning a line", and is perhaps distracted by encountering five insects. It's noticeable that he and the insects are described as equals, and this generates our empathy with these small creatures.

We get a sense of the past through these detailed descriptions, and Thomas Hardy does this deliberately in order to portray a vivid observed memory with a message. "An August Midnight" is concerned with the meaning and purpose in life, which we would all agree is an "august" topic indeed!

I looked at the analysis of the structure, as I found it interesting. We have 2 distinct patterns. The rhyme scheme of the first stanza is ABABC and then the second stanza has an AABBCC rhyme scheme. Within this, and looking at the metre, we have iambic pentameter for the first line of the first stanza:

"A shaded lamp and a waving blind"

but the second line is made up of anapaests (three-syllables of two unstressed syllables followed by a stressed syllable).

"And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:"

All this means that we feel the alteration, rather than having a reassuring stability. Such jerky, sporadic rhythm might remind us of how insects move 😊

Bionic Jean wrote: "All this means that we feel the alteration, rather than having a reassuring stability. Such jerky, sporadic rhythm might remind us of how insects move"

That's brilliant, Jean! I love that observation. I just re-read the poem thinking about sporadic rhythm, and it totally works.

Thank you Bridget 😊 (I seem to have only just seen this comment!)