IT is only the name on a door -- Why should there be tears in my eyes? But I never shall knock there more; And sorrow is not overwise. I used to go up the stair When the day was wearing late, And come on her unaware As she sat and dreamed by the grate. And then, like a sudden flame, My welcome flashed from her eyes, And her lips grew warm with my name, And we saw Love's star arise. Sometimes I but held her hand, And never a word said we -- We could always understand With never a word, you see. Sometimes she chattered like mad, And laughed -- I can hear her now. Shall I ever again be glad? I think I 've forgotten how. It is only the name on a door, Where I used to come and go; But never to knock there more -- Why, the world seems dead, you know! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VIRTUOSO; IN IMITATION OF SPENCER'S STYLE AND STANZA by MARK AKENSIDE EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L.H. by BEN JONSON KILLED AT THE FORD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW OPPORTUNITY by NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI CHOEPHOROI: INVOCATION OF AGAMEMNON'S GHOST by AESCHYLUS ANYWHERE OUT OF THE WORLD by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE NATURE AND ART by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN EPIGRAM ON ONE BORN BLIND, AND SO DEAD by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE LAST TIME THAT I MET LADY RUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |