Her Dilemma

Thomas Hardy

     THE two were silent in a sunless church,
       Whose mildewed walls, uneven paving-stones,
     And wasted carvings passed antique research;
       And nothing broke the clock's dull monotones.

     Leaning against a wormy poppy-head,
       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.

     She would have given a world to breathe "yes" truly,
       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.

     But the sad need thereof, his nearing death,
       So mocked humanity that she shamed to prize
     A world conditioned thus, or care for breath
       Where Nature such dilemmas could devise.

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