Classic Poem

They never told her she was dead;
And so she got up out of bed,
And quietly crept down the stairs
To take up her old household cares.

But something foolish in her brain
Would not let her take charge again;
And foiled she stood, with fumbling hand,
Trying, in vain, to understand

She could not realise that she
Was but a ghostly fantasy,
Whose body, even then, lay dead,
With folded hands, upon the bed.