"And then I came to a good place,
So kind, so dear are they
I may not come again," and so
She smiled and went away.
Dear Christ, Who died to save us all,
Who trod the ways so cold and wild,
The love of Mary in thy heart
Did let me ease my child.
She may not leave the place of bliss,
I may not touch her hands and hair,
But every night I touch and kiss
The shoes she used to wear.
THE OPEN DOOR: ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON
O listen for her step when the fire burns hollow
When the low fire whispers and the white ash sinks,
When all about the chamber shadows troop and follow
As drowsier yet the hearth's red watchlight blinks.
While bare black night through empty casements staring
Waits to storm the wainscot till the fire lies dead,
Fast along the snowbound waste little feet are faring—
Hush and listen—listen—but never turn your head.
Leave the door upon the latch—she could never reach it—
You would hear her crying, crying there till break of day,
Out on the cold moor 'mid the snows that bleach it,
Weeping as once in the long years past away.
Lean deeper in the settle-corner lest she find you—
Find and grow fearsome, too afraid to stay:
Do you hear the hinge of the oaken press behind you?
There all her toys were kept, there she used to play.
Do you hear the light, light foot, the faint sweet laughter
Happy stir and murmur of a child that plays:
Slowly the darkness creeps up from floor to rafter,
Slowly the fallen snow covers all the ways.
Falls as it once fell on a tide past over,
Golden the hearth glowed then, bright the windows shone;
And still, she comes through the sullen drifts above her
Home to the cold hearth though all the lights are gone.