Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/70

 In the cold solitude her heart
 * Remembers sorrowfully

White winters when her mother was
 * Her loving company.

Now in the dark clear glass she sees
 * A taper, mocking hers, —

A phantom face of light blue eyes,
 * Reflecting phantom fears.

Around her loom the vacant rooms,
 * Wind the upward stairs,

She climbs on into a loneliness
 * Only her taper shares.

Out in the dark a cold wind stirs,
 * At every window sighs;

A waning moon peers small and chill
 * From out the cloudy skies,

Casting faint tracery on the walls;
 * So stony still the house

From cellar to attic rings the shrill
 * Squeak of the hungry mouse.

Her grandmother is deaf with age;
 * A garden of moonless trees

Would answer not though she should cry
 * In anguish on her knees.