English poem
“Something Tapped”
by Thomas Hardy
SOMETHING tapped on the pane of my room When there was never a trace Of wind or rain, and I saw in the gloom My weary Belovéd’s face.
“O I am tired of waiting,” she said, “Night, morn, noon, afternoon; So cold it is in my lonely bed, And I thought you would join me soon!”
I rose and neared the window-glass, But vanished thence had she: Only a pallid moth, alas, Tapped at the pane for me.
August 1913.