Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave?

Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy portrait

1840 to 1928

Poem Image
Track 1

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And cares not where you lie.
Why flashed it not to me
My loved one? — planting rue?
To equal among human kind
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
And much I hope my movements here
I should be hungry near this spot
It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
— "No: yesterday he went to wed
She thought you no more worth her hate,
Her spirit from Death's gin.
— "Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
Say — since I have not guessed!
To bury a bone, in case
— "O it is I, my mistress dear,
What feeling do we ever find
Then, who is digging on my grave?
Ah yes! You dig upon my grave…
No tendance of her mound can loose
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
Mistress, I dug upon your grave
But someone digs upon my grave?
— "Ah, no: they sit and think, 'What use!
Then who is digging on my grave,
A dog's fidelity!
Your little dog , who still lives near,
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
That one true heart was left behind!
When passing on my daily trot.
It was your resting place.
Ah, are you digging on my grave,
Have not disturbed your rest?
What good will planting flowers produce?
My nearest dearest kin?
My enemy? — prodding sly?
That I should not be true.

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Poet portrait