Poetry Archives

I came back late and tired last night
 Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
 And comfortable gloom.

But as I entered softly in
 I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
 The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
 Sitting in my chair.

I stood a moment fierce and still,
 Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
 That there was no one there.

It was some trick of the firelight
 That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
 And the cushion in the chair.

Oh, all you happy over the earth,
 That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
 And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room,
 All night I could not sleep.