Can you not hear me knocking at midnight on your door?
Can you not see my shadow cast on your moonlit floor?
To fair and mass and pattern with you I come and go;
I scarcely leave you in your dreams and yet you never know.
The blind old dog I used to stroke has keener ears to hear;
He whines with wistful pleasure to hear my footfall near.
Woman or ghost, all 's one to him: his faith knows naught of change,
And if you saw and heard me, Dear, would you not find me strange?
Could you look deep into my eyes and feel no whit afraid
Of wisdom that must come with death to any man or maid?
My grief, I think my eyes would blind the gazing soul of you,
And you would never find again the colleen that you knew.
Call me no more from out my place; you see not when I come.
More faithful to my memory is the poor dog that's dumb.
Sleep soundly, Ulick, every night: wake gladly every day
Because between your soul and mine the links are snapt away.
And you shall find a wife more kind, and she shall love you long,
But at your passing, Ulick, when I can do no wrong
To any timid hope of hers, you'll turn your eyes to me
To guide you to the Quiet Place beyond the utmost sea.