my Xu Zhimo

But as we read this curious and wearisom volume, these many slovenly, slipshod, uncouth verses, stilted in sentiment, poorly conceived and worse wrought, our respect lessens to vanishing-point, and we lay it down with the feeling strong upon us that Mr Hardy has, by his own deliberate act, discredited that judgement and presentation of life on which his reputation rested. It is impossible to understand why the bulk of this volume was published at all - why he did not himself burn the verse, lest it should fall into the hands of the indiscreet literary executor, and mar his fame when he was dead.

Last of all comes a veritable poem, 'I Look Into My Glass'. It is an original thought realised and felt completely; and the expression is so clear and simple, that it will surely live when the rest of the book has been forgotten...

Unsigned review in The Saturday Review (7 January 1899), LXXXVII, 19.