Poem by Thomas Hardy

The Superseded

I

As newer comers crowd the fore,
We drop behind.
– We who have laboured long and sore
Times out of mind,
And keen are yet, must not regret
To drop behind.

II

Yet there are some of us who grieve
To go behind;
Staunch, strenuous souls who scarce believe
Their fires declined,
And know none spares, remembers, cares
Who go behind.

III

’Tis not that we have unforetold
The drop behind;
We feel the new must oust the old
In every kind;
But yet we think, must we, must we,
Too, drop behind?

1. Genitrix Laesa
2. Song from Heine
3. V.R. 1819–1901
4. Over the Coffin
5. Song to an Old Burden

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