Read "MET" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
How odd and strange seems our meeting / Like a grim rendezvous of the dead. / All day I have sat here repeating / The commonplace things that we said. / They sounded so oddly when uttered -- / They sound just as odd to me now; / _Was_ it we, or our two ghosts who muttered / Last evening, with simper and bow?
I had grown used to living without you. / In revel and concert and ball, / I had flown from much thinking about you, / And your picture I turned to the wall. / For to call back the dream that was broken, / To fancy your hand on my hair, / To remember the words we had spoken, / Was madness, and gall, and despair.