THERE is a woman who makes my eye <br />A place of shadows, as now and then <br />I see her dimly going by, <br />And faintly coming back again. <br /> <br />She moves as many others move; <br />There is no uttrance in her tread <br />To tempt an echo, nor to prove <br />What other footsteps have not said. <br /> <br />As often as she comes and goes <br />She is forgotten, as now and then <br />The wind is forgotten until it blows <br />A blur of dust down the street again.<br /><br />Hazel Hall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ephemera-2/
