Get Your Premium Membership

The Voice

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.
Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as when I drew near to the town Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then, Even to the original air-blue gown! Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness Travelling across the wet mead to me here, You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness, Heard no more again far or near? Thus I; faltering forward, Leaves around me falling, Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward, And the woman calling.

Poem by Thomas Hardy
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The VoiceEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...



More Poems by Thomas Hardy

Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on The Voice

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Voice here.

Commenting turned off, sorry.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things