The land's sharp features seemed to beThe Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament. (9-12)
The whole world seems to be participating in the end of the century. It's sort of like how you see rainbows and happiness (or death and destruction) everywhere you turn….it just depends on what you're looking for. And our speaker wants to see death. In a big way.
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,In blast-beruffled plume, (21-22)
Note how there aren't any metaphors used to describe this bird. It's a huge shift from Hardy's earlier strategies – maybe because the bird actually is alive. It doesn't need elaborate turns of phrase to make it seem alive.