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The Past

Edith Nesbit

Make strong your door with bolt and bar,
Make every window fast;
Strong brass and iron as they are,
They are so easy passed...

So easy broken and cast aside,
And by the open door
My footsteps come to your guarded home,
And pass away no more.

In the golden noon, by the lovers' moon,
My shadow bars your way,
My shroud shows white in the blackest night
And grey in the gladdest day.

And by your board and by your bed
There is a place for me,
And in the glow when the coals burn low,
My face is the face ye see

I come between when ye laugh and lean,
I burn in the tears ye weep:
I am there when ye wake in the gray day-break
From the gold of a lovers' sleep.

I wither the rose and I spoil the song,
And Death is not strong to save...
For I shall creep while your mourners weep,
And wait for you in your grave.

Home :: Poetry :: Ghosts of Pain (5) :: The Past

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