Souvenir

A vanished house that for an hour I knew

By some forgotten chance when I was young

Had once a glimmering window overhung

With honeysuckle wet with evening dew.

Along the path tall dusky dahlias grew,

And shadowy hydrangeas reached and swung

Ferociously; and over me, among

The moths and mysteries, a blurred bat flew.

Somewhere within there were dim presences

Of days that hovered and of years gone by.

I waited, and between their silences

There was an evanescent faded noise;

And though a child, I knew it was the voice

Of one whose occupation was to die.

E.A. Robinson