Thomas Hardy - A Procession of Dead Days lyrics

I see the ghost of a perished day; I know his face, and the feel of his dawn: 'Twas he who took me far away   To a spot strange and gray: Look at me, Day, and then pa** on, But come again: yes, come anon! Enters another into view; His features are not cold or white, But rosy as a vein seen through:   Too soon he smiles adieu. Adieu, O ghost-day of delight; But come and grace my dying sight. Enters the day that brought the kiss: He brought it in his foggy hand To where the mumbling river is,   And the high clematis; It lent new colour to the land, And all the boy within me manned. Ah, this one. Yes, I know his name, He is the day that wrought a shine Even on a precinct common and tame,   As 'twere of purposed aim. He shows him as a rainbow sign Of promise made to me and mine. The next stands forth in his morning clothes, And yet, despite their misty blue, They mark no sombre custom-growths   That joyous living loathes, But a meteor act, that left in its queue A train of sparks my lifetime through. I almost tremble at his nod - This next in train - who looks at me As I were slave, and he were god   Wielding an iron rod. I close my eyes; yet still is he In front there, looking mastery. In the similitude of a nurse The phantom of the next one comes: I did not know what better or worse   Chancings might bless or curse When his original glossed the thrums Of ivy, bringing that which numbs. Yes; trees were turning in their sleep Upon their windy pillows of gray When he stole in. Silent his creep   On the gra**ed eastern steep . . . I shall not soon forget that day, And what his third hour took away!