To a Portrait

A Pensive photograph   Watches me from the shelf— Ghost of old love, and half   Ghost of myself! How the dear waiting eyes   Watch me and love me yet— Sad home of memories,   Her waiting eyes! Ghost of old love, wronged ghost,   Return: though all the pain Of all once loved, long lost,   Come back again. Forget not, but forgive!   Alas, too late I cry. We are two ghosts that had their chance to live,   And lost it, she and I.