SHE sped through the door And, following in haste, And stirred to the core, I entered hot-faced; But I could not find her, No sign was behind her. 'Where is she?' I said: - 'Who?' they asked that sat there; 'Not a soul's come in sight.' - 'A maid with red hair.' - 'Ah.' They paled. 'She is dead. People see her at night, But you are the first On whom she has burst In the keen common light.' It was ages ago, When I was quite strong: I have waited since, - O, I have waited so long! - Yea, I set me to own The house, where now lone I dwell in void rooms Booming hollow as tombs! But I never come near her, Though nightly I hear her. And my cheek has grown thin And my hair has grown gray With this waiting therein; But she still keeps away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BANJO SONG by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON FLUSH OR FAUNUS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 1. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING by BEN JONSON THE SIFTING OF PETER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RIDDLE: A CANDLE by MOTHER GOOSE WINTER: MY SECRET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |