Surely you came not; 'twas some bird's white breast
Flashed through the night, and not your waving hand,
Some sea-gull, weary of the waves' unrest,
That sought the steadfast land.
And yet, amid the sobbing of the rain,
Outside my window in the dark and chill,
I heard your voice, that ever and again
Called, and would not be still—
Until the morning came, sullen and red,
With waves that beat still foaming on the shore,
The wind and rain had ceased, and lo! my dead
Had gone from me once more.
KITTY'S FEET
Sure, I'm sitting here this evening, while the firelight flickers low,
And I'm looking through the shadows into eyes I used to know,
Through the years that lie between us, into tender eyes and sweet,
And I'm listening in the darkness for the sound of Kitty's feet—
Kitty's feet, whose tripping faltered into silence long ago.
Ah, 'tis well I mind those evenings, gathering shades about my chair,
And the sound of Kitty's footsteps dancing gaily down the stair
Through the hall and past the doorway, till I'd turn, her eyes to meet,
Well my heart it knew the measure that was danced by Kitty's feet—
Kitty's feet that dance no longer, lying in the silence there.
Yet to-night as I sit dreaming, while the shadows longer grow,
I can almost think I hear them, the dear steps I long for so;
Through the years that lie between us comes again the vision sweet,
And my heart once more is beating to the tune of Kitty's feet—
Kitty's feet, that tripped so lightly past Death's portals long ago.