Page:Poems Eckley.djvu/184

But darker, darker now it grew,
 And yet tho' 'twas day without,
Darkness of soul crept over me,
 And I could not drive it out.

I rang at the door, and waited,—
 Oft I had waited before,
Rang again—does no one answer?
 'Tis open—open the door;
Where was the hand that raised the latch?
 Retreated? Aye as of old;
Too well they knew who was coming,
 And went back to the tasks they hold.

Into the rooms then I wandered,
 All silent, desolate, lone,
But there stood her chair and her table—
 Alas! the spirit had flown.
I invoked each dear one by name,
 An answer came on the air,—
"This is the House of Shadows,
 What hast thou to do here?"

I heard the laugh of the children,
 Rustling of garments wind-blown,
Saw leaves of the books turn over,
 The journal just read thrown down;