THE NAME ON A DOOR.
IT is only the name on a door—Why should there be tears in my eyes? But I never shall knock there more; And sorrow is not overwise.
I used to go up the stair When the day was wearing late, And come on her unaware As she sat and dreamed by the grate.
And then, like a sudden flame, My welcome flashed from her eyes, And her lips grew warm with my name, And we saw Love's star arise.
Sometimes I but held her hand, And never a word said we— We could always understand With never a word, you see.
Sometimes she chattered like mad, And laughed—I can hear her now. Shall I ever again be glad? I think I 've forgotten how.