I WENT back to our home to-day <br />That still its robe of roses wore; <br />My feet took the old easy way, <br />And led me to our door. <br /> <br /> <br />And you are gone and never more <br />Those little feet of yours will come <br />To meet me at the open door, <br />The threshold of our home. <br /> <br /> <br />The door unlatched did not protest: <br />I entered, and the silence drew <br />My steps towards the little nest <br />That once I shared with you. <br /> <br /> <br />There lay your fan, your open book, <br />Your seam half-sewn, and I could see <br />The window whence you used to look-- <br />Yes, once you looked--for me. <br /> <br /> <br />Print of your little head caressed <br />Our pillow still, and on the floor <br />Still lay, dropped there when last you dressed, <br />The scarf and rose you wore. <br /> <br /> <br />All should have spoken of you plain, <br />Yet, when I bade the silence tell <br />Of you, my bidding was in vain, <br />I could not break its spell. <br /> <br /> <br />The silence would not speak, my dear, <br />Till the last level light grew dim; <br />Then, in the twilight I could hear; <br />The silence spoke--of him.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/betrayed-28/
