IT’S the voice of Verizon, the measured cadence of CNN – the not-so-veiled threat that is Darth Vader.

It is, in short, the wonderful bass of James Earl Jones, now resonating through the revival of “On Golden Pond” – for which Jones snagged another Tony nod – and thundering across America in an 11th-hour appearance in “Star Wars: The Return of the Sith.”

The bear of the man it’s attached to welcomed The Post to his Cort Theatre dressing room. At 74, he looks positively regal – an impression at odds with the poem taped to his mirror, which he gleefully read aloud:

“When you’re dancing with your honey

And her nose is kind of runny

You may think it’s funny

But it’s not.”

“Very dignified, right?” he said, laughing, and his face lit up like the sun after a storm.

“It’s one of my favorite poems. My director from Verizon, an Australian – he gave me that one.”

Even so, he conceded, before he steps out on stage every night as the curmudgeonly 80-year-old Norman, he recites another poem: Dylan Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night,” which Jones calls a coda for the play.

“Norman isn’t a sentimentalist,” he says. “If he thinks about death, he gets p–d off. Rather than cry, he’s saying, ‘Come on, Death – bring it on!'”

OK, Mr. Jones. Bring it on!

Q: Your voice is recognized all over the world. Has that ever caused trouble?

A: The worst it ever got was when I used a CB radio driving cross-country. My handle was Darth Vader, and I used to freak truck drivers out.

Q: How many accidents did you cause?

A: I don’t know. I never stopped to find out!

Q: And yet your first “Star War” forays went uncredited. Why?

A: When Linda Blair got nominated for an Oscar for “The Exorcist,” there was a whole campaign to get Mercedes McCambridge to share the nomination, because she played the devil coming out of [Blair’s] mouth. And I thought, “That’s ridiculous – that’s special effects.” So when it came my turn, I said no credit.

My name first appeared on the screen in the third episode. After we knew Darth was going to die, I said, “OK, you can use it now.” But I had all the fun of denying it – it created a nice little mystique.

Q: Some thought Darth sounded like Geoffrey Holder, without the accent.

A: Yes. They’d say that, and I’d say, “You know, it does!”

Q: Did George Lucas actually direct you?

A: When the second episode came out, we didn’t know what we did right. So I was in there, trying to make it more human, with more subtlety and inflections, and [Lucas] said, “I think we’re on the wrong track. What makes Darth Vader work is that he has no inflections. He’s not human.” So I had to drop all that creativity.

Q: You never had to get into that helmet, did you?

A: Thank God, no! You know, I think George did all the breathing. Only George knows – and George is big for secrets. [Rumbling chuckle.]

Q: You’ll be at the Tonys, right?

A: Leslie [Uggams, his “Golden Pond” co-star] and I have been asked to present something, so I’ll be there.

Q: You’ve won twice before. What’s it like?

A: The minute your category’s up, you go blank. Then someone shoves you, if your name’s called, and you have no thought and no presence. You become an automaton, because it’s SO scary because it’s so unreal – there’s no way to tell who’s best unless you have all the actors do all the same roles. Line up and everybody do one of the characters in “Pillowman,” or do Brutus. Otherwise, you can’t tell who’s the best.

Q: Have you seen the competition?

A: I did see “Julius Caesar” while we were in previews. I liked it very much, but I always have a problem with modern dress. I still want my eye to be fed by elements of the period.

Q: There is no dating your voice. How would you describe it?

A: It’s the voice that sometimes calms children and dogs, because it’s low.

Q: It’s hard to believe you once stuttered.

A: It was so embarrassing, I didn’t even try to talk. I had a high school English teacher, Donald Crouch, who discovered I was secretly writing poetry. I offered one to the class and he said, “This is so good, I don’t think you really wrote it.” Then he said, “The only way you can prove you wrote it is to recite it by heart, right now, out loud.” I’ve never known to this day if it was a trick or not, but it got me talking.

Q: Wouldn’t that kind of pressure make the stutter worse?

A. I was already a stutterer, so I came out the other end! That same professor told me, “Don’t ever get caught listening to your voice – because if you listen to it, no one else will.” It’s about self-consciousness.

Q. Do you sing in the shower?

A. No. I met an opera singer in the hardware store who asked if I studied singing. I told him, “No, I couldn’t afford it,” and he said, “You just wasted a born bass voice.”

Q. Did you slap him with a screwdriver? Who was he?

A. He was an opera star – I can’t remember his name.

Q. Any regrets?

A. I’ve been very fortunate to have whatever I could get. My first job was right here on this stage, 50 years ago. I’d just gotten out of the Army, and Richard Thomas had just gotten out of kindergarten. We both made our Broadway debut with Ralph Bellamy in “Sunrise at Campobello.”

The director cast me as the houseboy. I had three lines, and one night, I stuttered on the M word. “Muh-muh-muh – Mrs. Roosevelet, dinner is served.” Well, Mary Pickett just waited for me to get it out. (Laughter). Supper can wait!