Fate

Three steps and I reach the door,
But a whole month rolls between
Since last I stood before
My shut room's simple scene.

I pause at the door and shrink,
My hand is at point to turn,
But I stand and dimly think
Of all I long for and yearn.

My life leaps up to me there,
The past with its every deed,
And I tremble and hardly dare
The open mystery to read.

A year and a day and awhile,
Ay me! there is none escape;
Each thought, each dream, each smile
Will front me in questioning shape.

I open and see what no eyes
Save mine have the power to see:
Dead scenes and dead griefs arise,
Dead follies make mouths at me.

Yea, so: through the dark I peer,
And shudder away from the door;
Voices once heard I hear,
Know faces seen long before.