My Silent Guest
We sit beside the hearthstone
Where the fire-light's ruddy glow
Brings back the faded pictures
From the realm of long ago,
And I smoke my pipe in silence
As a star shows in the west,
But never a word is uttered
From the lips of my silent guest.
And I hear as she sits beside me
The rustle of silken dress
And upon my burdened shoulder
A vanished hand is pressed;
The perfume of one sweet Summer
Comes back with a memory blest,
But never a word is spoken
From the lips of my silent guest.
I stretch my hand in the stillness
If to touch the head of brown,
Praying a look of welcome
From the dreamy eyes cast down,
And a word from the lips so tender
That would come as a message blest;
But never a word is uttered
From the lips of my silent guest.
And so we sit in the stillness
Alone through the blessed night,
Until each faded ember
Is lost in the coming light
Of the gaudy-mantled morning,
And I wake in the hush of dawn
To stretch my hands in pleading,
But my silent guest is gone.
