Poem by Thomas Hardy

She, to Him. 2

Perhaps, long hence, when I have passed away, 
Some other’s feature, accent, thought like mine, 
Will carry you back to what I used to say, 
And bring some memory of your love’s decline. 

Then you may pause awhile and think, ‘Poor jade!’ 
And yield a sigh to me – as ample due, 
Not as the tittle of a debt unpaid 
To one who could resign her all to you – 

And thus reflecting, you will never see 
That your thin thought, in two small words conveyed, 
Was no such fleeting phantom-thought to me, 
But the Whole Life wherein my part was played; 
And you amid its fitful masquerade 
A Thought – as I in your life seem to be! 

1. At the Word ‘Farewell’
2. The Three Tall Men
3. The Dead Bastard
4. The Supplanter
5. Evening Shadows

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