Author: Victor James Daley

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    Ghosts walk the Earth, that rise not from the grave.
    The Dead Past hath its living dead. We see
    All suddenly, at times, and shudder then,
    Their faces pale, and sad accusing eyes.

    Last night, within the crowded street, I saw
    A Phantom from the Past, with pallid face
    And hollow eyes, and pale, cold lips, and hair
    Faded from that imperial hue of gold
    Which was my pride in days that are no more.

    That pallid face I knew in its young bloom,
    A radiant lily with a rose-flushed heart,
    Most beautiful, a vision of delight;
    And seeing it again, so changed, so changed,
    I felt as if the icy hand of Death
    Had touched my forehead and his voice said Come!

    Ah, pale, cold lips that once were rosy-red!
    Lips I have kissed on golden afternoons,
    Past, past, and gone, and gone beyond recall,
    Breathing low vows beside the summer sea
    (Vows broken like the breaking of a wave);
    Ah, faded hair, whose curls I have caressed,
    And sworn the least of them was dearer far
    Than all the wealth of all the world to me!
    Ah, hollow, haunting eyes, within whose depths,
    Flower-like, and star-like, once my Fate I saw,
    Or thought I saw! is there not any way
    To call back from its grave the Buried Past?

    Dear! Though my vows to thee were all for-sworn,
    Too well, too late, I know I loved thee more
    Than mine own life, a life-in-death since then.
    Yet shall I nevermore in all the days
    And all the lives to come, if lives there be
    Beyond this life, beyond the weary earth,
    Kiss thee again upon the lips and hair,
    And call thee by the old caressing names,
    And feel thy true heart beating against mine,
    That was so false and would, too late, be true;
    For neither passionate prayer, nor burning tears,
    Nor incantations that might rend the rocks,
    Nor all the powers of hell, nor God Himself,
    May raise the Buried Past to life again.

    For thou that wert art not; dead evermore,
    Dead evermore, too, that which once was I.

    What exorcism will lay these haunting ghosts?
    None but a draught of the Lethean stream.
    Who drinks therefrom shall all things soon forget,
    Himself forgetting, too, the greatest good.

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Type of Poem: Elegy

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a poignant exploration of themes such as loss, regret, and the passage of time. The speaker is haunted by a past love, whose ghostly image stirs deep emotions and a profound sense of longing. The tone is mournful and introspective, reflecting the speaker's torment over a love that once was but is no more.

The structure of the poem is consistent and uniform, maintaining a steady rhythm that mirrors the speaker's relentless memories. The poet uses vivid and evocative language to paint a picture of the beloved's transformation from a vibrant, living presence to a ghostly apparition. The repeated use of color, such as "gold" and "pale", not only aids in creating this image but also symbolizes the transition from life to death, from past to present.

The poet employs a variety of literary devices, including metaphor, simile, and allusion. The metaphor of the "Buried Past" is particularly powerful, signifying a past that is dead and can't be resurrected. The allusion to the "Lethean stream" in the final lines, a mythological river in Hades whose water caused forgetfulness in those who drank from it, suggests the speaker's desire to forget his painful memories.

In conclusion, this poem is a deeply moving exploration of lost love, memory, and the inexorable march of time. It showcases the poet's skill in using vivid imagery and powerful metaphors to convey complex emotions and thoughts.