Thomas Hardy

* * *

I say, ‘I’ll seek her side
Ere hindrance interposes;’
But eve in midnight closes,
And here I still abide.

When darkness wears I see
Her sad eyes in a vision;
They ask, ‘What indecision
Detains you, Love, from me? –

‘The creaking hinge is oiled,
I have unbarred the backway,
But you tread not the trackway;
And shall the thing be spoiled?

‘Far cockcrows echo shrill,
The shadows are abating,
And I am waiting, waiting;
But O, you tarry still!’