In the dim gray mist of the golden years, By the path where the dead dream lies, The wraith of a ghostly girl appears With a curl down over her eyes, A good little girl in the vanished days With eyes that were sweet and sad, But sometimes she walked by the primrose ways And then she was pretty bad. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HE'D BE NOTHING BUT HIS VIOLIN by MARY KYLE DALLAS THE BARBER'S by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE TERMINUS (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON PROPERZIA ROSSI by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS TO SPAIN - A LAST WORD by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS SLEEPING BEAUTY by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN TRUTH AND SORROW by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY |