A Face from the Past

Out of the Past there has come a face;

Wherefore I do not know;

I did not call it from its place,

I cannot make it go;

In the night it was very near,

And it looks at me today,

With well-known eyes, so kind, so dear,

And it will not go away.

I am the same that I was before,

There is nothing new to say;

But this is with me evermore,

As it was not yesterday;

It makes the Moment vague and vain,

And (what a wondrous thing!)

I hear an old tale told again

As if it was happening.

You talk, but scarce I understand;

If you but pause for breath,

Straightway I am in that far land

Beyond the seas of Death.

All living sights are dimly seen

Across that mighty space--

How can I tell you what I mean?

'Tis nothing but a face.

O friends, who think me dull or cold,

Why do you feel surprise?

Have you no memories that hold

Your weary waking eyes?

I want to take all patiently,

But I sometimes long to say,

A Face has come from the Past to me--

Let me alone to-day!

Menella Bute Smedley