I was at peace until you came And set a careless mind aflame;
I lived in quiet; cold, content;
All longing in safe banishment,
Until your ghostly lips and eyes Made wisdom unwise.
Naught was in me to tempt your feet To seek a lodging.
Quite forgot Lay the sweet solitude we two In childhood used to wander through;
Time's cold had closed my heart about,
And shut you out.
Well, and what then? . . .
O vision grave,
Take all the little all I have!
Strip me of what in voiceless throught Life's kept of life, unhoped, unsought! — Reverie and dream that memory must Hide deep in dust!
This only I say:
Though cold and bare,
The haunted house you have chosen to share,
Still 'neath its walls the moonbeam goes And trembles on the untended rose;
Still o'er its broken roof-tree rise The starry arches of the skies;
And 'neath your lightest word shall be The thunder of an ebbing sea.
