Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 104

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CIV
 Lo, when the house is empty come the dead, And once again they say the words they said,Breaking the charmèd silence of the grave! I have sat lonely with my closest friend Asin the throng. Ah, wherefore, to what end?The dead have power to give more than the living gave.
 Lo, when the house is empty, live the dreams Of the old poets—and my chamber seems A palace for the women long agoThat, whilst the living shadows round me move,Are shadows also, dumb, remote from love,Vain figures, vainly mouthing at a show!

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