The Two Men

THERE were two youths of equal age,
  Wit, station, strength, and parentage;
  They studied at the self-same schools,
  And shaped their thoughts by common rules.

  One pondered on the life of man,
  His hopes, his endings, and began
  To rate the Market's sordid war
  As something scarce worth living for.

  "I'll brace to higher aims," said he,
  "I'll further Truth and Purity;
  Thereby to mend and mortal lot
  And sweeten sorrow. Thrive I not,

  "Winning their hearts, my kind will give
  Enough that I may lowly live,
  And house my Love in some dim dell,
  For pleasing them and theirs so well."

  Idly attired, with features wan,
  In secret swift he labored on;
  Such press of power had brought much gold
  Applied to things of meaner mould.

  Sometimes he wished his aims had been
  To gather gains like other men;
  Then thanked his God he'd traced his track
  Too far for wish to drag him back.

  He lookèd from his loft one day
  To where his slighted garden lay;
  Nettles and hemlock hid each lawn,
  And every flower was starved and gone.

  He fainted in his heart, whereon
  He rose, and sought his plighted one,
  Resolved to loose her bond withal,
  Lest she should perish in his fall.

  He met her with a careless air,
  As though he'd ceased to find her fair,
  And said: "True love is dust to me;
  I cannot kiss: I tire of thee!"

  (That she might scorn him was he fain,
  To put her sooner out of pain;
  For incensed love breathes quick and dies,
  When famished love a-lingering lies.)

  Once done, his soul was so betossed,
  It found no more the force it lost:
  Hope was his only drink and food,
  And hope extinct, decay ensued.

  And, living long so closely penned,
  He had not kept a single friend;
  He dwindled thin as phantoms be,
  And drooped to death in poverty....

  Meantime his schoolmate had gone out
  To join the fortune-finding rout;
  He liked the winnings of the mart,
  But wearied of the working part.

  He turned to seek a privy lair,
  Neglecting note of garb and hair,
  And day by day reclined and thought
  How he might live by doing nought.

  "I plan a valued scheme," he said
  To some. "But lend me of your bread,
  And when the vast result looms nigh,
  In profit you shall stand as I."

  Yet they took counsel to restrain
  Their kindness till they saw the gain;
  And, since his substance now had run,
  He rose to do what might be done.

  He went unto his Love by night,
  And said: "My Love, I faint in fight:
  Deserving as thou dost a crown,
  My cares shall never drag thee down."

  (He had descried a maid whose line
  Would hand her on much corn and wine,
  And held her far in worth above
  One who could only pray and love.)

  But this Fair read him; whence he failed
  To do the deed so blithely hailed;
  He saw his projects wholly marred,
  And gloom and want oppressed him hard;

  Till, living to so mean an end,
  Whereby he'd lost his every friend,
  He perished in a pauper sty,
  His mate the dying pauper nigh.

  And moralists, reflecting, said,
  As "dust to dust" in burial read
  Was echoed from each coffin-lid,
  "These men were like in all they did."

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
45 Views

Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy, was a Scottish Minister, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland and Professor of Eccesiastical History at Edinburgh University. more…

All Thomas Hardy poems | Thomas Hardy Books

FAVORITE (0 fans)

Translation

Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • Chinese - Simplified 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • Chinese - Traditional 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Spanish Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • Japanese 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Portuguese Português (Portuguese)
  • German Deutsch (German)
  • Arabic العربية (Arabic)
  • French Français (French)
  • Russian Русский (Russian)
  • Kannada ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • Korean 한국어 (Korean)
  • Hebrew עברית (Hebrew)
  • Ukrainian Український (Ukrainian)
  • Urdu اردو (Urdu)
  • Hungarian Magyar (Hungarian)
  • Hindi मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesian Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italian Italiano (Italian)
  • Tamil தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Turkish Türkçe (Turkish)
  • Telugu తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • Thai ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Vietnamese Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Czech Čeština (Czech)
  • Polish Polski (Polish)
  • Indonesian Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Romanian Românește (Romanian)
  • Dutch Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Greek Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latin Latinum (Latin)
  • Swedish Svenska (Swedish)
  • Danish Dansk (Danish)
  • Finnish Suomi (Finnish)
  • Persian فارسی (Persian)
  • Yiddish ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • Armenian հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norwegian Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English English (English)

Discuss this Thomas Hardy poem with the community:

Citation

Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

Style:MLAChicagoAPA

"The Two Men" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 20 Sep. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/36580/the-two-men>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Our favorite collection of

Famous Poets

»

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.