A sound in the night Thomas Hardy

“What do I catch upon the night-wind, husband? -
What is it sounds in this house so eerily?
It seems to be a woman’s voice: each little while I hear it,
       &nbsp And it much troubles me!”

“’Tis but the eaves dripping down upon the plinth-slopes:
Letting fancies worry thee! - sure ‘tis a foolish thing,
When we were on’y coupled half-an-hour before the noontide,
       &nbsp And now it’s but evening.”

“Yet seems it still a woman’s voice outside the castle, husband,
And ‘tis cold to-night, and rain beats, and this is a lonely place.
Didst thou fathom much of womankind in travel or adventure
       &nbsp Ere ever thou sawest my face?”

“It may be a tree, bride, that rubs his arms acrosswise,
If it is not the eaves-drip upon the lower slopes,
Or the river at the bend, where it whirls about the hatches
       &nbsp Like a creature that sighs and mopes.”

“Yet it still seems to me like the crying of a woman,
And it saddens me much that so piteous a sound
On this my bridal night when I would get agone from sorrow
       &nbsp Should so ghost-like wander round!”

“To satisfy thee, Love, I will strike the flint-and-steel, then,
And set the rush-candle up, and undo the door,
And take the new horn-lantern that we bought upon our journey,
       &nbsp And throw the light over the moor.”