Collected poems of Thomas Hardy With a portrait |
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IN A WHISPERING GALLERY |
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 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
IN A WHISPERING GALLERY
That whisper takes the voiceOf a Spirit's compassionings,
Close, but invisible,
And throws me under a spell
At the kindling vision it brings;
And for a moment I rejoice,
And believe in transcendent things
That would mould from this muddy earth
A spot for the splendid birth
491
Whereto no night arrives;
And this gaunt gray gallery
A tabernacle of worth
On this drab-aired afternoon,
When you can barely see
Across its hazed lacune
If opposite aught there be
Of fleshed humanity
Wherewith I may commune;
Or if the voice so near
Be a soul's voice floating here.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |