In a heavy time I dogged myself
       &nbsp Along a louring way,
Till my leading self to my following self
       &nbsp Said: “Why do you hang on me
       &nbsp       &nbsp So harassingly?”

“I have watched you, Heart of mine,” I cried,
       &nbsp “So often going astray
And leaving me, that I have pursued,
       &nbsp Feeling such truancy
       &nbsp       &nbsp Ought not to be.”

He said no more, and I dogged him on
       &nbsp From noon to the dun of day
By prowling paths, until anew
       &nbsp He begged: “Please turn and flee! -
       &nbsp       &nbsp What do you see?”

“Methinks I see a man,” said I,
       &nbsp “Dimming his hours to gray.
I will not leave him while I know
       &nbsp Part of myself is he
       &nbsp       &nbsp Who dreams such dree!”

“I go to my old friend’s house,” he urged,
       &nbsp “So do not watch me, pray!”
“Well, I will leave you in peace,” said I,
       &nbsp “Though of this poignancy
       &nbsp       &nbsp You should fight free:
“Your friend, O other me, is dead;
       &nbsp You know not what you say.”
- “That do I! And at his green-grassed door
       &nbsp By night’s bright galaxy
       &nbsp       &nbsp I bend a knee.”

- The yew-plumes moved like mockers’ beards,
       &nbsp Though only boughs were they,
And I seemed to go; yet still was there,
       &nbsp And am, and there haunt we
       &nbsp       &nbsp Thus bootlessly.