Poem by Thomas Hardy

He Follows Himself

In a heavy time I dogged myself
Along a louring way,
Till my leading self to my following self
Said: ‘Why do you hang on me
So harassingly?’

‘I have watched you, Heart of mine,’ I cried,
‘So often going astray
And leaving me, that I have pursued,
Feeling such truancy
Ought not to be.’

He said no more, and I dogged him on
From noon to the dun of day
By prowling paths, until anew
He begged: ‘Please turn and flee! –
What do you see?’

‘Methinks I see a man,’ said I,
‘Dimming his hours to gray.
I will not leave him while I know
Part of myself is he
Who dreams such dree!’

‘I go to my old friend’s house,’ he urged,
‘So do not watch me, pray!’
‘Well, I will leave you in peace,’ said I,
‘Though of this poignancy
You should fight free:

‘Your friend, O other me, is dead;
You know not what you say.’
– ‘That do I! And at his green-grassed door
By night’s bright galaxy
I bend a knee.’

– The yew-plumes moved like mockers’ beards
Though only boughs were they,
And I seemed to go; yet still was there,
And am, and there haunt we
Thus bootlessly.

1. At the Word ‘Farewell’
2. The Supplanter
3. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
4. The Children and Sir Nameless
5. Tragedian to Tragedienne

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