THROUGH the long night, the deathlong night,
Along the dark and haunted way,
I knew your hidden face was bright--
More bright than any day.
And when the faint, insistent moan
Rose from some weed-grown wayside grave,
I said, "I do not walk alone;
'Tis easy to be brave.
I never turned to speak with you,
For all the way was dark and long,
But all the shadows' menace through
Your silence was my song.
I never sought to take your hand,
For all the way was long and rough;
I taught my soul to understand
That love was strength enough.
Then, suddenly, the ghosts drew near,
A ghastly, gliding, tomb-white band;
I called aloud for you to hear,
My hand besought your hand.
No voice, no touch--the thin ghosts glide
Where in my dream I dreamed you were--
Night, night, you are not by my side,
You never have been there!
