Wraiths

Who hears the answer when I cry? O quiet hours and empty blue---- You? But the echoful air beats back no sigh.

Who is glad of the love that I give the green? O haunted hollow in tide of leaves, Who weaves Delight of mine on the flowery screen?

Who harbours that little straying ghost Of our thought for each other before we knew Love true? Warm, warm in my heart and never lost.