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 to-day, 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!