Poem by Thomas Hardy

Our Old Friend Dualism

All hail to him, the Protean! A tough old chap is he:
Spinoza and the Monists cannot make him cease to be.
We pound him with our ‘Truth, Sir, please!’ and quite appear to still him:
He laughs; holds Bergson up, and James; and swears we cannot kill him.
We argue them pragmatic cheats. ‘Aye,’ says he. ‘They’re deceiving:
But I must live; for flamens plead I am all that’s worth believing!’

1. An Expostulation
2. Her Love-Birds
3. The Collector Cleans His Picture
4. The Aërolite
5. The Harvest-Supper

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