Poem by Thomas Hardy

Her Immortality

Upon a noon I pilgrimed through 
	A pasture, mile by mile, 
Unto the place where last I saw 
	My dead Love’s living smile. 

And sorrowing I lay me down 
	Upon the heated sod: 
It seemed as if my body pressed 
	The very ground she trod. 

I lay, and thought; and in a trance 
	She came and stood thereby –
The same, even to the marvellous ray 
	That used to light her eye. 

‘You draw me, and I come to you, 
	My faithful one,’ she said, 
In voice that had the moving tone 
	It bore ere she was wed. 

‘Seven years have circled since I died: 
	Few now remember me; 
My husband clasps another bride: 
	My children’s love has she. 

‘My brethren, sisters, and my friends 
	Care not to meet my sprite: 
Who prized me most I did not know 
	Till I passed down from sight.’ 

I said: ‘My days are lonely here; 
	I need thy smile alway: 
I’ll use this night my ball or blade, 
	And join thee ere the day.’ 

A tremor stirred her tender lips, 
	Which parted to dissuade: 
‘That cannot be, O friend,’ she cried; 
	‘Think, I am but a Shade! 

‘A Shade but in its mindful ones 
	Has immortality; 
By living, me you keep alive, 
	By dying you slay me. 

‘In you resides my single power 
	Of sweet continuance here; 
On your fidelity I count 
	Through many a coming year.’ 

– I started through me at her plight, 
	So suddenly confessed: 
Dismissing late distaste for life, 
	I craved its bleak unrest. 

‘I will not die, my One of all! –
	To lengthen out thy days 
I’ll guard me from minutest harms 
	That may invest my ways!’ 

She smiled and went. Since then she comes 
	Oft when her birth-moon climbs, 
Or at the seasons’ ingresses, 
	Or anniversary times; 

But grows my grief. When I surcease, 
	Through whom alone lives she, 
Her spirit ends its living lease, 
	Never again to be!

1. The Supplanter
2. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Tragedian to Tragedienne
5. The Three Tall Men

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