<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368479" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Ghost At The Dancing</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A WIND-SWEPT tulip-bed--a colored cloud <br>Of butterflies careering in the air-- <br>A many-figured arras stirred to life, <br>And merry unto midnight music dumb-- <br>So the dance whirls. Do any think of thee, <br>Amiel, Amiel? <br>Friends greet each other--countless rills of talk <br>Meander round, scattering a spray of smiles. <br>Surely--the news was false. One minute more <br>And thou wilt stand here, tall and quiet-eyed, <br>Shakespearian beauty in they pensive face, <br>Amiel, Amiel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Many here knew and loved thee--I nor loved, <br>Scarce knew--yet in thy place a shadow glides, <br>And a face shapes itself from empty air, <br>Watching the dancers, grave and quiet-eyed-- <br>Eyes that now see the angels evermore, <br>Amiel, Amiel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On just such night as this, 'midst dance and song, <br>I bade thee carelessly a light good by-- <br>'Good by'--saidst thou; 'A happy journey home!' <br>Was the unseen death-angel at thy side, <br>Mocking those words--('A happy journey home,' <br>Amiel, Amiel? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, we play fool's play still; thou hast gone home. <br>While these dance here, a mile hence o'er thy grave <br>Drifts the deep New Year snow. The wondrous gate <br>We spoke of, thou hast entered; I without <br>Grope ignorant still--thou dost its secrets know, <br>Amiel, Amiel. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What if, thus sitting where we sat last year, <br>Thou camest, took'st up our broken thread of talk, <br>And told'st of that new Home, which far I view, <br>As children, wandering on through wintry fields, <br>Mark on the hill the father's window shine, <br>Amiel, Amiel? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. We shall see thy pleasant face no more; <br>Thy words on earth are ended. Yet thou livest; <br>'T is we who die.--I too, one day shall come, <br>And, unseen, watch these shadows, quiet-eyed-- <br>Then flit back to thy land, the living land, <br>Amiel, Amiel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dinah+Maria+Mulock+Craik">Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368479" data-title="A Ghost At The Dancing de Dinah Maria Mulock Craik" data-description="A WIND-SWEPT tulip-bed--a colored cloud Of butterflies careering in the air-- A many-figured arras stirred to life, And merry unto midnight music dumb-- So the dance whirls. Do any think of thee, Amiel, Amiel? Friends greet each other--count..."></div> </div> </div>

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