The Ghost

" Who knocks? " " I, who was beautiful,
Beyond all dreams to restore,
I, from the roots of the dark thorn am hither.
And knock on the door. "

" Who speaks? " " I — once was my speech
Sweet as the bird's on the air,
When echo lurks by the waters to heed;
'Tis I speak thee fair. "

" Dark is the hour! " " Ay, and cold. "
" Lone is my house. " " Ah, but mine? "
" Sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain. "
" Long dead these to thine ... "

Silence. Still faint on the porch
Brake the flames of the stars.
In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand
Over keys, bolts, and bars.

A face peered. All the grey night
In chaos of vacancy shone;
Nought but vast sorrow was there —
The sweet cheat gone.
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