Poem by Thomas Hardy

Something Tapped

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.

1. The Supplanter
2. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Tragedian to Tragedienne
5. The Three Tall Men

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