I

O LIFE, dear Life, in this fair house

Long since did I, it seems to me,

In some mysterious doleful way

Fall out of love with thee.

For, Life, thou art become a ghost,

A memory of days gone by,

A poor forsaken thing between

A heartache and a sigh.

And now, with shadows from the hills

Thronging the twilight, wraith on wraith,

Unlock the door and let me go

To thy dark rival Death!

II

O Heart, dear Heart, in this fair house

Why hast thou wearied and grown tired,

Between a morning and a night,

Of all thy soul desired?

Fond one, who cannot understand

Even these shadows on the floor,

Yet must be dreaming of dark loves

And joys beyond my door!

But I am beautiful past all

The timid tumult of thy mood,

And thou returning not must still

Be mine in solitude.

Source:
Behind the Arras A Book of the Unseen by Bliss Carman
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/18242/18242-h/18242-h.htm#page44