The room is vibrant with you -- but they say That you have left our day, That even now your frail, thin hands can hold All power, as in a bowl of heavenly gold, All wisdom and all beauty in the same, And quaff your fill in the eternal name Of death. Yet, have you left us? You are here In this small room, most dear! I do not have to question book or chair, Table or picture. Here you are, and there, -- The undeniable presence! or 'twould seem I tread a chamber in the house of dream. Where is your voice, your touch? And yet they are Both here -- not far! A city's day runs by us in the street Below. The half-barred shutters filter sweet And shaken sunlight on the flowers you love. I may not move Beneath this silence -- while many a clanging bell, Street cries, harsh traffic's roar, to blatant babel swell. Oh, grace Unguessed! Oh, now unveiled and lovelier face! This empty room is how aware of you! Though they may call you lost -- though She has passed -- At last -- at last This is the soul I loved, and never knew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A PURCHASE by KAREN SWENSON A PRAYER, LIVING AND DYING by AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY THIRD REUNION POEM by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE VOICE by ESTHER TROWBRIDGE CATLIN LINES ON THE DEATH OF BISMARCK by JOHN JAY CHAPMAN |