To a Portrait by Arthur Symons

A pensive photograph
Watches me from the shelf--
Ghost of old love, and half
Ghost of myself!

How the dear waiting eyes
Watch me and love me yet--
Sad home of memories,
Her waiting eyes!

Ghost of old love, wronged ghost,
Return: though all the pain
Of all once loved, long lost,
Come back again.

Forget not, but forgive!
Alas, too late I cry.
We are two ghosts that had their chance to live,
And lost it, she and I.