Thomas Hardy — At Waking

       &nbsp When night was lifting, And dawn had crept under its shade,        &nbsp Amid cold clouds drifting Dead-white as a corpse outlaid,        &nbsp       &nbsp With a sudden scare        &nbsp       &nbsp I seemed to behold        &nbsp       &nbsp My Love in bare        &nbsp       &nbsp Hard lines unfold.        &nbsp Yea, in a moment, An insight that would not die        &nbsp Killed her old endowment Of charm that had capped all nigh,        &nbsp       &nbsp Which vanished to none        &nbsp       &nbsp Like the gilt of a cloud,        &nbsp       &nbsp And showed her but one        &nbsp       &nbsp Of the common crowd.        &nbspShe seemed but a sample Of earth's poor average kind,        &nbsp Lit up by no ample Enrichments of mien or mind.        &nbsp       &nbsp I covered my eyes        &nbsp       &nbsp As to cover the thought,        &nbsp       &nbsp And unrecognize        &nbsp       &nbsp What the morn had taught.        &nbsp O vision appalling When the one believed-in thing        &nbsp Is seen falling, falling, With all to which hope can cling.        &nbsp       &nbsp Off: it is not true;        &nbsp       &nbsp For it cannot be        &nbsp       &nbsp That the prize I drew        &nbsp       &nbsp Is a blank to me!