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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374211" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Return</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,<br>The stones were white as I came through;<br>I came down the path by the thirteen yews,<br>Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.<br>And when I came to the high lych-gate<br>I waited awhile where the corpses wait;<br>Then I came down the road where the moonlight lay<br>Like the fallen ghost of the light of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bats shrieked high in their zigzag flight,<br>The owls' spread wings were quiet and white,<br>The wind and the poplar gave sigh for sigh,<br>And all about were the rustling shy<br>Little live creatures that love the night -<br>Little wild creatures timid and free.<br>I passed, and they were not afraid of me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was over the meadow and down the lane<br>The way to come to my house again:<br>Through the wood where the lovers talk,<br>And the ghosts, they say, get leave to walk.<br>I wore the clothes that we all must wear,<br>And no one saw me walking there,<br>No one saw my pale feet pass<br>By my garden path to my garden grass.<br>My garden was hung with the veil of spring -<br>Plum-tree and pear-tree blossoming;<br>It lay in the moon's cold sheet of light<br>In garlands and silence, wondrous and white<br>As a dead bride decked for her burying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I saw the face of my house<br>Held close in the arms of the blossomed boughs:<br>I leaned my face to the window bright<br>To feel if the heart of my house beat right.<br>The firelight hung it with fitful gold;<br>It was warm as the house of the dead is cold.<br>I saw the settles, the candles tall,<br>The black-faced presses against the wall,<br>Polished beechwood and shining brass,<br>The gleam of china, the glitter of glass,<br>All the little things that were home to me -<br>Everything as it used to be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I said, 'The fire of life still burns,<br>And I have returned whence none returns:<br>I will warm my hands where the fire is lit,<br>I will warm my heart in the heart of it!'<br>So I called aloud to the one within:<br>'Open, open, and let me in!<br>Let me in to the fire and the light -<br>It is very cold out here in the night!'<br>There was never a stir or an answering breath -<br>Only a silence as deep as death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.<br>No one heard me, and none replied.<br>The golden silence lay warm and deep,<br>And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;<br>And there was no one to hear or see -<br>To comfort me, to have pity on me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But deep in the silence something stirred -<br>Something that had not seen or heard -<br>And two drew near to the window-pane,<br>Kissed in the moonlight and kissed again,<br>And looked, through my face, to the moon-shroud, spread<br>Over the garlanded garden bed;<br>And--'How ghostly the moonlight is!' she said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Back through the garden, the wood, the lane,<br>I came to mine own place again.<br>I wore the garments we all must wear,<br>And no one saw me walking there.<br>No one heard my thin feet pass<br>Through the white of the stones and the gray of the grass,<br>Along the path where the moonlight hews<br>Slabs of shadow for thirteen yews.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the hollow where drifted dreams lie deep<br>It is good to sleep: it was good to sleep:<br>But my bed has grown cold with the drip of the dew,<br>And I cannot sleep as I used to do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</a><div class=q>
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<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=374211" data-title="The Return de Edith Nesbit" data-description="The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,
The stones were white as I came through;
I came down the path by the thirteen yews,
Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.
And when I came to the high lych-gate
I waited awhile where the corps..."></div>
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