IN through the porch and up the silent stair ; Little is changed, I know so well the ways ; -- Here, the dead came to meet me ; it was there The dream was dreamed in unforgotten days. But who is this that hurries on before, A flitting shade the brooding shades among ? -- She turned, -- I saw her face, -- O God, it wore The face I used to wear when I was young ! I thought my spirit and my heart were tamed To deadness ; dead the pangs that agonise. The old grief springs to choke me, -- I am shamed Before that little ghost with eager eyes. O turn away, let her not see, not know ! How should she bear it, how should understand ? O hasten down the stairway, haste and go, And leave her dreaming in the silent land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPHINX by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 27 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DICK, A MAGGOT by JONATHAN SWIFT A BURIAL-PLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |