Poems (Bacon)/The shadow
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V. THE SHADOW
If you and I should join our hands
And go at night soft through the hall,
I wonder could we hope to catch
That shadow sliding from the wall?
And go at night soft through the hall,
I wonder could we hope to catch
That shadow sliding from the wall?
He slips and slips and slips away,
I touched his arm—and he was gone!
I cannot see his face, can you?
What wall can that be painted on?
I touched his arm—and he was gone!
I cannot see his face, can you?
What wall can that be painted on?
Because they say he is n't real,
They say he 's just a flattened form;
But me, I don't believe it's true,
I touched his arm, and it was warm!
They say he 's just a flattened form;
But me, I don't believe it's true,
I touched his arm, and it was warm!
Right through the wall he slips and sinks:
The room behind, you know, is mine.
What can he want there in the dark?
He never makes a sound nor sign.
The room behind, you know, is mine.
What can he want there in the dark?
He never makes a sound nor sign.
He never goes there in the day,
Only at night, right after tea,
And then I go to bed, you know,
And then he runs ahead of me.
Only at night, right after tea,
And then I go to bed, you know,
And then he runs ahead of me.
If you will hold my hand quite close,
And creep along with me quite still,
We 'll make a sudden jump—but no!
We 'll touch him then—I know we will!
And creep along with me quite still,
We 'll make a sudden jump—but no!
We 'll touch him then—I know we will!