I knew her for a little ghost <br /> That in my garden walked; <br />The wall is high—higher than most— <br /> And the green gate was locked. <br /> <br />And yet I did not think of that <br /> Till after she was gone— <br />I knew her by the broad white hat, <br /> All ruffled, she had on. <br /> <br />By the dear ruffles round her feet, <br /> By her small hands that hung <br />In their lace mitts, austere and sweet, <br /> Her gown's white folds among. <br /> <br />I watched to see if she would stay, <br /> What she would do—and oh! <br />She looked as if she liked the way <br /> I let my garden grow! <br /> <br />She bent above my favourite mint <br /> With conscious garden grace, <br />She smiled and smiled—there was no hint <br /> Of sadness in her face. <br /> <br />She held her gown on either side <br /> To let her slippers show, <br />And up the walk she went with pride, <br /> The way great ladies go. <br /> <br />And where the wall is built in new <br /> And is of ivy bare <br />She paused—then opened and passed through <br /> A gate that once was there.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-ghost/
