Thomas Hardy - The Dear lyrics

I plodded to Fairmile Hill-top, where   A maiden one fain would guard From every hazard and every care   Advanced on the roadside sward. I wondered how succeeding suns   Would shape her wayfarings, And wished some Power might take such ones   Under Its warding wings. The busy breeze came up the hill   And smartened her cheek to red, And frizzled her hair to a haze. With a will   "Good-morning, my Dear!" I said. She glanced from me to the far-off gray,   And, with proud severity, "Good-morning to you—though I may say   I am not YOUR Dear," quoth she: "For I am the Dear of one not here -   One far from his native land!" - And she pa**ed me by; and I did not try   To make her understand.