Tuesday, October 05, 2010

THE LITTLE GHOST
I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
And the green gate was locked.
***
And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.
***
By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown's white folds among.
***
I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!
***
She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.
***
She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.
***
And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused—then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there.
***
--Edna St. Vincent Millay

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