Safe in the magic of my woods <br />I lay, and watched the dying light. <br />Faint in the pale high solitudes, <br />And washed with rain and veiled by night, <br /> <br />Silver and blue and green were showing. <br />And the dark woods grew darker still; <br />And birds were hushed; and peace was growing; <br />And quietness crept up the hill; <br /> <br />And no wind was blowing <br /> <br />And I knew <br />That this was the hour of knowing, <br />And the night and the woods and you <br />Were one together, and I should find <br />Soon in the silence the hidden key <br />Of all that had hurt and puzzled me -- <br />Why you were you, and the night was kind, <br />And the woods were part of the heart of me. <br /> <br />And there I waited breathlessly, <br />Alone; and slowly the holy three, <br />The three that I loved, together grew <br />One, in the hour of knowing, <br />Night, and the woods, and you ---- <br /> <br />And suddenly <br />There was an uproar in my woods, <br /> <br />The noise of a fool in mock distress, <br />Crashing and laughing and blindly going, <br />Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress, <br />And a Voice profaning the solitudes. <br /> <br />The spell was broken, the key denied me <br />And at length your flat clear voice beside me <br />Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes. <br /> <br />You came and quacked beside me in the wood. <br />You said, "The view from here is very good!" <br />You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!" <br />And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said. <br />You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?" <br /> <br />By God! I wish -- I wish that you were dead!<br /><br />Rupert Brooke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-voice-6/
