Two poems I like about ghosts of wives and dreams

Haunting My Husband by Toni Clark Nothing much has changed. He looks right through me, doesn't hear a word I say, forgets all my instructions: where we keep the strainer, how to fold the sheets. I trail him room to room, like our old hound dog, waiting for welcome - come here, old girl - careful to walk around furniture I now could well pass through, wondering what trick to try next. He may lift his head, as though sensing a barometric shift, a thickening of air, but it's always nothing. He shrugs, carries his empty cup to the sink. I still wrap myself around him, rubbing my cheek against his stubbly morning face, and can almost feel the scrape of whiskers. And sometimes at night, dazed by dream, he still reaches out to me, before I resolve into my true form: a lingering memory. I'd rattle dishes, flick lights on and off, whoosh past his ear if I thought there were a ghost of a chance he'd notice. from http://www.theguardian.com/books/2006/mar/06/poetryWhile I was looking for that poem, I found another interesting one by John Milton: On His Deceased Wife METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint, Purification in the old Law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied sight, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O as to embrace me she enclin'd I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-his-deceased-wife/