The Poetry Corner

The Glimpse

By Thomas Hardy

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!