Thomas Hardy - On one who lived and died where he was born lyrics

When a night in November   Blew forth its bleared airs An infant descended   His birth-chamber stairs   For the very first time,   At the still, midnight chime; All unapprehended   His mission, his aim. - Thus, first, one November, An infant descended   The stairs. On a night in November   Of weariful cares, A frail aged figure   Ascended those stairs   For the very last time:   All gone his life's prime, All vanished his vigour,   And fine, forceful frame: Thus, last, one November Ascended that figure   Upstairs. On those nights in November -   Apart eighty years - The babe and the bent one   Who traversed those stairs   From the early first time   To the last feeble climb - That fresh and that spent one -   Were even the same: Yea, who pa**ed in November As infant, as bent one,    Those stairs. Wise child of November!   From birth to blanched hairs Descending, ascending,   Wealth-wantless, those stairs;   Who saw quick in time   As a vain pantomime Life's tending, its ending,   The worth of its fame. Wise child of November, Descending, ascending    Those stairs!