Fate

Three steps and I reach the door,   But a whole month rolls between Since last I stood before   My shut room’s simple scene. I pause at the door and shrink,   My hand is at point to turn, But I stand and dimly think   Of all I long for and yearn. My life leaps up to me there,   The past with its every deed, And I tremble and hardly dare   The open mystery to read. A year and a day and awhile,   Ay me! there is none escape; Each thought, each dream, each smile   Will front me in questioning shape. I open and see what no eyes   Save mine have the power to see: Dead scenes and dead griefs arise,   Dead follies make mouths at me. Yea, so: through the dark I peer,   And shudder away from the door; Voices once heard I hear,   Know faces seen long before.