The Haunter
He does not think that I haunt here nightly: How shall I let him
That whither his fancy sets him wandering I, too, alertly go? —Hover and hover a few feet from him Just as I used to do,
But cannot answer his words addressed me — Only listen thereto!
When I could answer he did not say them: When I could let him
How I would like to join in his journeys Seldom he wished to go.
Now that he goes and wants me with him More than he used to do,
Never he sees my faithful phantom Though he speaks thereto.
Yes,
I accompany him to places Only dreamers know,
Where the shy hares show their faces, Where the night rooks go;
Into old aisles where the past is all to him, Close as his shade can do,
Always lacking the power to call to him, Near as I reach thereto!
What a good haunter I am,
O tell him, Quickly make him
If he but sigh since my loss befell him Straight to his side I go.
And if it be that at night I am stronger, Go, too, by day I do:
Please, then, keep him in gloom no longer, Even ghosts tend thereto!
Thomas Hardy
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