37 WHEN TRAVELLERS RETURN

There is more in this room than is corporal,— Grieved, silent, and striving in nameless ways, While I read, with my back against the wall, And nothing happens, and naught betrays Unseen sad eyes that are weighing me Somehow. They trouble me, too, although By rule and reason this should not be.... But a woman died here, years ago, Who loved me much:—and what if the dead Were doomed to this as their punishment— That with those whom, living, they loved they tread Forever, and are omniscient?