PRESENCES
I have seen gentle ladies fade
Into the dusk on soundless feet,
And I have seen their image made
One with the evening, deep and sweet.
Long dead the voices of all these –
Beside some gate shadowy and tall,
Or threshold dim their memories
Dream with the driven leaves of fall.
Even as a poor man makes his bed
In golden Autumn foliage deep,
Lie down, my soul uncomforted,
Amid their memories and sleep.
And to thy very bosom strain
These shadows from the twilight lands,
That their faint fragrance may remain
Within my heart and on thy hands.
-- Camille Mauclair
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