MY days are phantom days, each one The shadow of a hope; My real life never was begun, Nor any of my real deeds done. I live so quietly I know There must be many a sun That does not see me as I go Among my shadows to and fro. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO NANNETTE FALK-AUERBACH by SIDNEY LANIER SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR BOYHOOD FRIENDS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ISAIAH, JEREMIAH, EXEKIEL, DANIEL by MARIANNE MOORE |