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 | Poems : medley and Palestina |  |
41
The Haunted Lady.
You know not, lady, how often
A stranger follows your trace,
Or lies in wait for your coming
To win a sight of your face.
A stranger follows your trace,
Or lies in wait for your coming
To win a sight of your face.
He wanders mute as a phantom
That haunts the populous street,
Yet may not murmur its burden
To those it chances to meet.
That haunts the populous street,
Yet may not murmur its burden
To those it chances to meet.
He longs, like the ghost, to utter
A sigh, a yearning, a word;
But spells forbid, and the secret
Is spoken in heart, unheard.
A sigh, a yearning, a word;
But spells forbid, and the secret
Is spoken in heart, unheard.
The message is naught but kindness,
A prayer that your life may be
As fair and pure as the beauty
He walks so often to see.
A prayer that your life may be
As fair and pure as the beauty
He walks so often to see.
| Poems : medley and Palestina | |