Poetry Archives

What hast thou done to this dear friend of mine,
Thou cold, white, silent Stranger?  From my hand
Her clasped hand slips to meet the grasp of thine;
Here eyes that flamed with love, at thy command
Stare stone-blank on blank air; her frozen heart
Forgets my presence.  Teach me who thou art,
Vague shadow sliding ‘twixt my friend and me.
  I never saw thee till this sudden hour.
What secret door gave entrance unto thee?
  What power in thine, o’ermastering Love’s own power?