Why Will You Haunt Me

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Why will you haunt me unawares,
 And walk into my sleep,
 Pacing its shadowy thoroughfares,
Where long-dried perfume scents the airs,
 While ghosts of sorrow creep,
Where on Hope's ruined altar-stairs,
 With ineffectual beams,
The Moon of Memory coldly glares
 Upon the land of dreams?

My yearning eyes were fain to look
 Upon your hidden face;
Their love, alas! you could not brook,
But in your own you mutely took
 My hand, and for a space
You wrung it till I throbbed and shook,
 And woke with wildest moan
And wet face channeled like a brook
 With your tears or my own.

© Mathilde Blind