Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
11. Her Dilemma
T
Whose mildewed walls, uneven paving-stones,
And wasted carvings passed antique research;
And nothing broke the clock’s dull monotones.
So wan and worn that he could scarcely stand,
—For he was soon to die,—he softly said,
“Tell me you love me!”—holding hard her hand.
So much his life seemed hanging on her mind,
And hence she lied, her heart persuaded throughly,
’Twas worth her soul to be a moment kind.
So mocked humanity that she shamed to prize
A world conditioned thus, or care for breath
Where Nature such dilemmas could devise.