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.