Ah Are You Digging on My Grave - Thomas Hardy
A Wry Dialogue Revealing the Fleeting Nature of Human Remembrance
Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?
by Thomas Hardy
[Full Text]
“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 tendence of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death’s gin.’”
“But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy?—prowling 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 on me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among humankind
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.”
Thomas Hardy’s “Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?” unfolds as a conversation from beyond the grave, where the deceased narrator hears someone disturbing her burial plot and tries to guess who it might be. Her first thoughts turn to a “loved one,” then to “nearest dearest kin,” and finally an “enemy”—yet each possibility is refuted in turn, showing that neither love, familial bonds, nor hate endures enough to prompt anyone to visit. Ultimately, the intruder turns out to be her beloved dog, but not out of loyalty—rather, the dog is simply burying a bone, having entirely forgotten that this is its mistress’s final resting place.
Hardy’s characteristic irony shines through the poem’s brisk stanzas. The speaker believes she must still be the center of someone’s devoted attention, only to learn that, in death, her influence is fleeting. The final revelation—that even a dog, a symbol of unwavering devotion, has absentmindedly used her grave for convenience—drives home the poem’s sardonic message. Human attachments, perceived loyalty, and enmities may all seem vital during life, but time and practicality diminish them.
In a gently satirical tone, Hardy undercuts romantic illusions about eternal remembrance. Each of the speaker’s guesses is dashed, reinforcing how quickly the living move on. The structure of repeated questions and blunt answers underscores the poem’s central insight: even in mourning, the world’s attention swiftly turns elsewhere. By the end, “Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?” offers a wry commentary on posthumous vanity, emphasizing that no matter how important we feel in life, death’s silent domain often leaves us overlooked or forgotten.
Key points
• The poem uses an afterlife dialogue to explore the impermanence of earthly bonds.
• One by one, the speaker’s assumptions about who might ‘tend’ her grave are dispelled.
• Hardy wields dark humor, revealing how both love and hate can fade once someone is gone.
• The final twist, involving a dog’s casual forgetfulness, highlights how quickly society—and even pets—move on.