Thomas Hardy
I was the midmost
I was the midmost of my world
  When first I frisked me free,
For though within its circuit gleamed
  But a small company,
And I was immature, they seemed
  To bend their looks on me.
She was the midmost of my world
  When I went further forth,
And hence it was that, whether I turned
  To south, east, west, or north,
Beams of an all-day Polestar burned
  From that new axe of earth.
Where now is midmost in my world?
  I trace it not at all:
No midmost shows it here, or there,
  When wistful voices call
“We are fain! We are fain!” from everywhere
  On Earth’s bewildering ball!
