Something Tapped by Thomas Hardy — Read

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.