A Ghost
Now come and haunt my quiet room
With light and shade and red-rose bloom:
Light of your healing eyes and shade
Of dark hair free from knot and braid.
Like lips with some sweet word that part
A red rose opens on your heart.
Out of your peace be manifest,
Into the dulness of my rest.
I shall not win at all my heaven
If no least glimmer of you leaven
My loneliness. Come to me, Dear,
Lest I should grow contented here.
Brighten again my dusty books
With kindness of your gracious looks
Renew the youth of my dim air
With your deep smile, that is aware
Of patience (borage in life's wine),
And stronger love than this of mine.
Ay, stronger love that would descend
Into the pit to save a friend,
Or serve, not saving; love that cleaves
Even when faith no more believes,
I love till death, past judgment you —
Is He not kind that made you true?