How Grey, How Grey The Evening Grew Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

How grey, how grey the evening grew
The sky was cloudless yet its grey
Reflected on the stones, the day
Seemed in its sweet agony of disease
Its half-opened lips to slowly close
Slowly, slowly, slowly.

And then of sudden lo! I saw
A phantom grey the stairs ascend
The face I saw not, from behind
A tall thin form it was:
And as it moved up up the stairs
Its step moved speedily:

And as swift as it came was lost

No sound it made, no voice
It brake: yet in my heart
A throbbing made
That never was before.