I ENTERED her half-opened door;
A welcome like the voice of seas,
When overland their mellow roar
Comes homeward on the summer breeze,
Gave greeting to my listening heart.
In vain I crossed the echoing room;
The voice was still a voice apart,
Though memories ripened into bloom,
Touched by the sacred presence there,
Pervading perishable things, --
A grace that filled the common air
With sense of overshadowing wings.
The pendant blossoms fading breathed
Into new life to speak of her;
The gathered autumn boughs hung wreathed
To welcome their lost worshipper.
But still she came not; silence dwelt
And solitude where she abode.
Their dumb lips told the truth I felt:
Though lonely be the place she trod,
Wide is her radiant chamber now;
Her spirit gilds the morning cloud,
And lights the day until his brow
Sinks in the ocean's purpling shroud;
And in the heart of love a bed
Is laid whereon her sleep is sweet;
There lives she whom the world calls dead,
There we may kiss her gracious feet.