THE OLD MAN

The boat put in at dead of night;

And, when I reached the house,‘ twas sleeping dark.

I knew my gentlest tap would be a spark

To set my home alight:

My mother ever listening in her sleep

For my returning step, would leap

Awake with welcome; and my father's eyes

Would twinkle merrily to greet me;

And my young sister would run down to meet me

With sleepy sweet surprise.

And yet, awhile, I lingered

Upon the threshold, listening;

And watched the cold stars glistening,

And seemed to hear the deep

Calm breathing of the house asleep —

In easy sleep, so deep, I almost feared to break it;

And, even as I fingered

The knocker, loth to wake it,

Like some uncanny inkling

Of news from otherwhere,

I felt a cold breath in my hair,

As though, with chin upon my shoulder,

One waited hard, upon my heel,

With pricking eyes of steel,

Though well I knew that not a soul was there.

Until, at last, grown bolder,

I rapped; and in a twinkling,

The house was all afire

With welcome in the night:

First, in my mother's room, a light;

And then, her foot upon the stair;

A bolt shot back; a candle's flare:

A happy cry; and to her breast

She hugged her heart's desire:

And hushed her fears to rest.

Then, shivering in the keen night air,

My sleepy sister, laughing came;

And drew us in: and stirred to flame

The smouldering kitchen-fire; and set

The kettle on the kindling red:

And, as I watched the homely blaze,

And thought of wandering days

With sharp regret;

I missed my father: then I heard

How he was still a-bed;

And had been ailing, for a day or so;

But, now was waking, if I'd go...

My foot already on the stair,

In answer to my mother's word

I turned; and saw in dull amaze,

Behind her, as she stood all unaware,

An old man sitting in my father's chair.

A strange old man... yet, as I looked at him,

Before my eyes, a dim

Remembrance seemed to swim

Of some old man, who'd lurked about the boat,

While we were still at sea;

And who had crouched beside me, at the oar,

As we had rowed ashore;

Though, at the time, I'd taken little note,

I felt I'd seen that strange old man before:

But, how he'd come to follow me,

Unknown...

And to be sitting there...

Then I recalled the cold breath in my hair,

When I had stood, alone,

Before the bolted door.

And now my mother, wondering sore

To see me stare and stare,

So strangely, at an empty chair,

Turned, too; and saw the old man there.

And as she turned, he slowly raised

His drooping head;

And looked upon her with her husband's eyes.

She stood, a moment, dazed;

And watched him slowly rise,

As though to come to her:

Then, with a cry, she sped

Upstairs, ere I could stir.

Still dazed, I let her go, alone:

I heard her footstep overhead:

I heard her drop beside the bed,

With low forsaken moan.

Yet, I could only stare and stare

Upon my father's empty chair.