Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

Outside the Casement

(A Reminiscence of the War)

We sat in the room
And praised her whom
We saw in the portico-shade outside:
She could not hear
What was said of her,
But smiled, for its purport we did not hide.

Then in was brought
That message, fraught
With evil fortune for her out there,
Whom we loved that day
More than any could say,
And would fain have fenced from a waft of care.

And the question pressed
Like lead on each breast,
Should we cloak the tidings, or call her and tell?
It was too intense
A choice for our sense,
As we pondered and watched her we loved so well.

Yea, spirit failed us
At what assailed us;
How long, while seeing what soon must come,
Should we counterfeit
No knowledge of it,
And stay the stroke that would blanch and numb?

And thus, before
For evermore
Joy left her, we practised to beguile
Her innocence when
She now and again
Looked in, and smiled us another smile.


Published in "Late Lyrics and Earlier" in 1922.

Hardy wrote a number of poems about observers and those being observed. Sometimes they were separated by windows, and other times the observer was unnoticed in the background.

It is terribly tragic to receive a telegram notifying any family of a death. It's even sadder to know that "Outside the Casement" was probably was inspired by an actual event, and was written from the heart. The Hardys received a telegram from the mother of Second Lieutenant Frank George to notify them that her son was killed in action at Gallipoli on August 22, 1915. A woman who was very dear to Frank, perhaps his fiancée, was sitting outdoors on the portico.

Frank George was a cousin in Hardy's mother's family. Hardy and his second wife, Florence, considered George to be almost a son. He frequently visited and they had planned to leave Max Gate to him when they died. His name often appears in Hardy's and Florence's correspondence.

Connie, I had read "Outside the Casement" before, but had no idea of that real-life background. That makes the poem so much more poignant.

I agree, thank you Connie, for all the information about Frank George. I had forgotten about him until you mentioned him again just now.

I thought Hardy captured very well the anxiety of notifying loved ones of a death. The person holding the information would of course know they are about to change someone's life forever, or as the poem says "and thus, before/for evermore/Joy left her"

That last moment of peace before the information is told, the last breadth one takes before life falls apart, Hardy finds the words to articulate it all. This is something, I think, that poetry does so well. Illuminating one single moment in time.

Thank you for this one Connie!

Thank you for the background, Connie. It makes the poem even more tragic.

Thanks for your comments, Werner, Bridget, and Carolien. I can't imagine how much heartache that families went through during the two world wars.

This is something Hardy captured well. I believe Walt Whitman wrote a similar poem — a woman being notified her husband died in the Civil War.

I was also reminded of something about Robert Graves. He was nearly killed in World War 1 and I think his mom was sent a telegram that he had died. It was not the case, but it likely took days, if not longer, to learn he was alive in a hospital.

In Graves’ wonderful memoir Goodbye to All That he wrote of visiting Hardy at Max Gate. We are all the beneficiaries of that telegram being wrong.

John wrote: "This is something Hardy captured well. I believe Walt Whitman wrote a similar poem — a woman being notified her husband died in the Civil War.

I was also reminded of something about Robert Graves...."

I feel so sorry for Robert Graves' mother to get such false information. His memoir sounds like it would be fascinating, John.

A very poignant and sad poem. It is so easy to slip into the shoes of those on both sides of the window. The true story behind it makes it an even sharper hurt, knowing how it must have spilled from Hardy's pen, almost written in blood instead of ink.

I appreciate the Graves story as well, John. I love knowing details of that kind...and yes, a gift to us all that the telegram was wrong.