Thomas Hardy's Dorset

When I am dead, my body shall go back To the hills between the Ridgeway and the Sea-- To the Earthworks and terracing and ancient bridle-track To the Dorset hills my heart has h...

Swanage is a well-known seaside resort, rapidly growing in favour. It nestles in the farther corner of a lovely little bay, and though in the rapid extension of rows of newly ar...

We who have passed into the Upper Air Thence behold Earth, and know how she is fair. More than her sister Stars sweet Earth doth love us: She holds our hearts: the Stars are hig...

Thomas Hardy is a Dorset man both by birth and residence. He was born on 2nd June 1840, in a pretty, thatched cottage in the hamlet of Higher Bockhampton. If one takes the Londo...

So to the land our hearts we give Till the sure magic strike, And Memory, Use, and Love make live Us and our fields alike-- That deeper than our speech and thought Beyond our re...

I walk in the world's great highways, In the dusty glare and riot, But my heart is in the byways That thread across the quiet; By the wild flowers in the coppice, There the trac...

Toller Porcorum (Toller of the Swine) has a railway station on the Bridport branch line and is two miles from Maiden Newton. The name is explanatory, and great herds of swine we...

"How far is it to Babylon?" Ah, far enough, my dear, Far, far enough from here-- Yet you have farther gone! "Can I get there by candlelight?" So goes the old refrain. I do not k...

My motor cycle had carried me without a hitch from London to Melbury Abbas--then Fortune scowled on me. With ridiculous ease I had rolled along the roads all day, and I had been...

And she is very small and very green And full of little lanes all dense with flowers That wind along and lose themselves between Mossed farms, and parks, and fields of quiet she...

It is a sleepy country town, deeply seated among hills, near the head-waters of the _Birt_, which flows through it. It is a place of some antiquity, but not remarkable for much,...

Oh, finer far Than fame or riches are The graceful smoke-wreaths of this cigar! Why Should I Weep, wail, or sigh? What if luck has passed me by? What if my hopes are dead, My pl...

If we return, will England be Just England still to you and me? The place where we must earn our bread?-- We who have walked among the dead, And watched the smile of agony, And...

the modern seaman who never sings at his work. The man who sings loudly and clearly is in good health, prompt, and swift to the point, and his heart is as big as parson's barn....

The wide expanse of Poole Harbour is a well-known haunt of sportsmen, for in the winter it is the home of innumerable wild-fowl, and for those who are fond of yachting and potte...