Once, When The World Of Trees.... Poem by David Lewis Paget

A girl, not young
Is at my door beating,
‘What do you want of me, ’
A voice comes, speaking.

‘Only of me and mine
That you took from me,
Only the comb and wine
That once belonged me.’

‘I have no tines of yours, ’
A voice is stating,
‘Only the dark, these walls
A long time waiting.’

‘What of that early breeze
That caught my blushing
Once, when the world of trees
Went by, rushing? ’

‘What of the glimpses caught
Of shadows, fleeting?
Open this dark, your door,
And speed our meeting.’

‘Leave me to bury peace, ’
A voice, it trembles
‘I have no thought of lees,
Nor what resembles.’

‘I have no window-panes
No frost, no hoar-dew,
Fingers that traced old stains
Were here before you.’

Bolting the shutters fast
I heard, despite me
Voices that spoke were mine,
Rasped deep inside me.

‘Give me the breath, ’ she sobbed,
‘That I once sighed with – ‘
‘Never, ’ I said, ‘that breath
Was the breath you lied with.’

8 December 1985