Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
The Room's Width - Poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
I think if I should cross the room,
Far as fear;
Should stand beside you like a thought-
Touch you, Dear!
Like a fancy. To your sad heart
It would seem
That my vision passed and prayed you,
Or my dream.
Then you would look with lonely eyes-
Lift your head-
And you would stir, and sigh, and say-
'She is dead.'
Baffled by death and love, I lean
Through the gloom.
O Lord of life! am I forbid
To cross the room?
Comments about The Room's Width by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You