'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful <br />Beyond all dreams to restore, <br />I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither, <br />And knock on the door.' <br /> <br />'Who speaks? ' 'I -- once was my speech <br />Sweet as the bird's on the air, <br />When echo lurks by the waters to heed; <br />'Tis I speak thee fair.' <br /> <br />'Dark is the hour!' 'Aye, and cold.' <br />'Lone is my house.' 'Ah, but mine? ' <br />'Sight, touch, lips, eyes gleamed in vain.' <br />'Long dead these to thine.' <br /> <br />Silence. Still faint on the porch <br />Brake the flames of the stars. <br />In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand <br />Over keys, bolts, and bars. <br /> <br />A face peered. All the grey night <br />In chaos of vacancy shone; <br />Nought but vast sorrow was there -- <br />The sweet cheat gone.<br /><br />Walter de la Mare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ghost-22/
