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!