In Edward Thomas’s poem, a speaker revisits a beloved hill after twelve years. When he first came, his heart raced with a hope so intense it felt as if the slope might reveal something no other place ever could. Now, walking down for the last time, he knows that particular thrill will never return. The change, long unnoticed, has at last become plain: hope itself is gone. Not health or cheerfulness—those can come and go—but that original, eager hope has finally faded. He may love other hills yet more, and the future still hides something, but a deeper truth settles in: love grows through chance, habit, and time, and the heart’s dance is louder at parting than at meeting. The mood is quietly elegiac—a tender, steady look at loss and the way attachments deepen as we let them go.
When First — Summary
WHEN first I came here I had hope, Hope for I knew not what. Fast beat My heart at sight of the tall slope Or grass and yews, as if my feet
Only by scaling its steps of chalk Would see something no other hill Ever disclosed. And now I walk Down it the last time. Never will
My heart beat so again at sight Of any hill although as fair And loftier. For infinite The change, late unperceived, this year,
The twelfth, suddenly, shows me plain. Hope now,--not health, nor cheerfulness, Since they can come and go again, As often one brief hour witnesses,--
Just hope has gone for ever. Perhaps I may love other hills yet more Than this: the future and the maps Hide something I was waiting for.
One thing I know, that love with chance And use and time and necessity Will grow, and louder the heart's dance At parting than at meeting be.