Explore "Betrayed" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I went back to our home to-day / That still its robe of roses wore; / My feet took the old easy way, / And led me to our door.
And you are gone and never more / Those little feet of yours will come / To meet me at the open door, / The threshold of our home.
The door unlatched did not protest: / I entered, and the silence drew / My steps towards the little nest / That once I shared with you.
There lay your fan, your open book, / Your seam half-sewn, and I could see / The window whence you used to look -- / Yes, once you looked -- for me.
Print of your little head caressed / Our pillow still, and on the floor / Still lay, dropped there when last you dressed, / The scarf and rose you wore.
All should have spoken of you plain, / Yet, when I bade the silence tell / Of you, my bidding was in vain, / I could not break its spell.
The silence would not speak, my dear, / Till the last level light grew dim; / Then, in the twilight I could hear; / The silence spoke -- of him.