Poem by Thomas Hardy

The Glimpse

She sped through the door
And, following in haste,
And stirred to the core,
I entered hot-faced;
But I could not find her,
No sign was behind her.
‘Where is she?’ I said:
– ‘Who?’ they asked that sat there;
‘Not a soul’s come in sight.’
– ‘A maid with red hair.’
– ‘Ah.’ They paled. ‘She is dead.
People see her at night,
But you are the first
On whom she has burst
In the keen common light.’
It was ages ago,
When I was quite strong:
I have waited since, – O,
I have waited so long!
– Yea, I set me to own
The house, where now lone
I dwell in void rooms
Booming hollow as tombs!
But I never come near her,
Though nightly I hear her.
And my cheek has grown thin
And my hair has grown gray
With this waiting therein;
But she still keeps away!

1. An Expostulation
2. Why She Moved House
3. Her Love-Birds
4. The Collector Cleans His Picture
5. The Aërolite

Walter De la Mare The Glimpse ("Art thou asleep? or have thy wings")

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