THE PHANTOM

by: Danske Dandridge (1854-1914)

SILENT company of fears
Is keeping watch within my door
And dimly seen through foolish tears,
The fire-light flickers on the floor.
The wind is sweeping by amain
The elm-tree taps against the pane,
As though in friendly warning.
Behind my chair strange noises start
My heart cries out unto my heart.
"Would God that it were morning!"
I knew, I knew that It would come,
I feel its Presence in the room.
With sad reproachful eyes it stands
And lifts its weak, appealing hands.
Against my will, against my will.
O sad lost Love, you haunt me still.

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