Meseemed that while she played, while lightly yet <br />Her fingers fell, as roses bloom by bloom, <br />I listened dead within a mighty room <br />Of some old palace where great casements let <br />Gaunt moonlight in, that glimpsed a parapet <br />Of statued marble: in the arrased gloom <br />Majestic pictures towered, dim as doom, <br />The dreams of Titian and of Tintoret. <br />And then, it seemed, along a corridor, <br />A mile of oak, a stricken footstep came, <br />Hurrying, yet slow … I thought long centuries <br />Passed ere she entered she, I loved of yore, <br />For whom I died, who wildly wailed my name <br />And bent and kissed me on the mouth and eyes.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/can-such-things-be/
