Who's that?

Who's that? Who's that? …
Oh, only a leaf on the stone;
And the sigh of the air in the fire.
Yet it seemed, as I sat,
Came company—not my own;
Stood there, with ardent gaze over dark, bowed shoulder thrown,
Till the dwindling flames leaped higher,
And showed fantasy flown.

Yet though the cheat is clear—
From transient illusion grown;
In the vague of my mind those eyes
Still haunt me. One stands so near
I could take his hand, and be gone:—
No more in this house of dreams to sojourn aloof, alone:
Could sigh, with full heart, and arise,
And choke, “Lead on!”
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.