 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
121
‘CLOSED IN MY POET'S BOOK, I SEE’
Closed in my poet's book, I seeThe flowers your sweet hand gave to me.
All lovely things are there, I deem,
That haunt the poet's waking dream,
Whose gentle company they keep
All night, all day—awake, asleep;
Yet, pity them, they scarce can rest
(Ah, first you wore them on your breast!)
But, wistful, evermore they look,
Whene'er I ope their prisoning book,
And, cheated, take—a moment's space—
Their gaoler's for their angel's face;
Then, sere and and withering, only miss
The resurrection of your kiss.
| The ghost's entry and other poems | |