Classic Poem

Chord—very softly sounded—echoing on;
Touched by what hand, who knows—for what rapt ear?—
In this rayed room of memories past and gone
From thought, reanimate now and ghostly near:
Veiled musical vibrations which belong
To these essential walls, these trodden floors,
These windows open to the blackbird's song,
And, shut for the last time on life, these doors.
Caught unaware in day-dream silences,
I hear you, vanished voices, where such peace
Imbues my being as when your gladness breathed;
And now like leafy whispering it is,
And now slow shadows of the towering trees
On lawns that your experience has bequeathed.