Lo, haply walking in some clattering street-- <br />Where throngs of men and women dumbly pass, <br />Like shifting pictures seen within a glass <br />Which leave no trace behind--one seems to meet, <br />In roads once trodden by our mutual feet, <br />A face projected from that shadowy mass <br />Of faces, quite familiar as it was, <br />Which beaming on us stands out clear and sweet. <br /> <br />The face of faces we again behold <br />That lit our life when life was very fair, <br />And leaps our heart toward eyes and mouth and hair: <br />Oblivious of the undying love grown cold, <br />Or body sheeted in the churchyard mould, <br />We stretch out yearning hands and grasp--the air.<br /><br />Mathilde Blind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/haunted-streets/
