So ghostly then the girl came in,
i never saw the turnstile twist,
down where the orchard trees begin,
lost in a reverie of mist

and in the windless hour between
the last of daylight and the night,
when fields give up their ebbing green,
and two bats interweave their flight.

i saw the turnstile glimmer pale
just where the orchard trees begin
but watching was of no avail,
invisibly the girl came in.

so ghostly then the girl came in,
i never saw the turnstile twist,
down where the orchard trees begin,
lost in a reverie of mist.

i took one deep breath of air
and lifted up my heavy heart,
it was not i who trembled there
but my immortal counterpart.

i knew that she had come again,
up from the orchard through the 'stile,
without a sigh to tell me when,
though i was watching all the while...

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