Brief Background

The poet that I chose to research was Thomas Hardy. Hardy was born in 1840 in England and raised in a relatively low-class Victorian setting. He was apprenticed to an architect when he was young and made architecture his course of study while Attending The King's College in London. While there he won several awards for architecture and pursued and early young architectural career. In 1874 he instead decided to leave London, which he harbored a disdain for, and pursue a literary career. He wrote several novels including: Far From the Madding Crowd, The Native, and The Woodlanders. Despite success with his novels and a gained celebrity status, Hardy then chose to pursue his "first love", poetry. His first poetic volume Wessex Poems contained poems from the previous 30 years was published in 1898. Afterwards, he publishes poems sporadically. In 1912, his first wife, Emma Lavinia Gifford passed away which was an extremely traumatic event for Hardy. One of his biographers, Claire Tomalin, notes that after Emma's death , Hardy became a "truly great" English poet and his poems achieved a new depth and sense of sorrow. Hardy eventually remarried and died in 1928 at the age of 88. He has achieved great post mortem fame and is now recognized as one of the most masterful English poets. He is a noted Naturalist and Romanticist, elements which are extremely prominent in his poetry and life.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave?

"Ah, are you digging on my grave,
            My loved one? — planting rue?"
— "No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
            'That I should not be true.'"

"Then who is digging on my grave,
            My nearest dearest kin?"
— "Ah, no: they sit and think, 'What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
            Her spirit from Death's gin.'"

"But someone digs upon my grave?
            My enemy? — prodding sly?"
— "Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
            And cares not where you lie.

"Then, who is digging on my grave?
            Say — since I have not guessed!"
— "O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog , who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
            Have not disturbed your rest?"

"Ah yes! You dig upon my grave…
            Why flashed it not to me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among human kind
            A dog's fidelity!"

"Mistress, I dug upon your grave
            To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
            It was your resting place."
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1 comment:

  1. Connor DrooffJanuary 6, 2012 at 1:45 PM

    This poem really stood apart from the rest of
    Hardy's poetry for me. The suspense and surprise ending keep the reader guessing and ultimately make the poem more enjoyable to read again and pick out details. He uses the title and early word-choice to develop a dark mood, however in a use of classic irony, the endingg turns out to be extremely different than what the reader has come to expect.

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