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Amy Levy - The Old House
Work rating: Low

In through the porch and up the silent stair;
    Little is changed, I know so well the ways;—
Here, the dead came to meet me; it was there
    The dream was dreamed in unforgotten days.

But who is this that hurries on before,
    A flitting shade the brooding shades among?—
She turned,—I saw her face,—O God, it wore
    The face I used to wear when I was young!

I thought my spirit and my heart were tamed
    To deadness; dead the pangs that agonise.
The old grief springs to choke me,—I am shamed
    Before that little ghost with eager eyes.

O turn away, let her not see, not know!
    How should she bear it, how should understand?
O hasten down the stairway, haste and go,
    And leave her dreaming in the silent land.
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