DEATH'S CHILL BETWEEN

Chide not; let me breathe a little,

For I shall not mourn him long;

Though the life-cord was so brittle,

The love-cord was very strong.

I would wake a little space

Till I find a sleeping-place.

You can go,— I shall not weep;

You can go unto your rest.

My heart-ache is all too deep,

And too sore my throbbing breast.

Can sobs be, or angry tears,

Where are neither hopes nor fears?

Though with you I am alone

And must be so everywhere,

I will make no useless moan,—

None shall say‘ She could not bear:’

While life lasts I will be strong,—

But I shall not struggle long.

Listen, listen! Everywhere

A low voice is calling me,

And a step is on the stair,

And one comes ye do not see,

Listen, listen! Evermore

A dim hand knocks at the door.

Hear me; he is come again,—

My own dearest is come back.

Bring him in from the cold rain;

Bring wine, and let nothing lack.

Thou and I will rest together,

Love, until the sunny weather.

I will shelter thee from harm,—

Hide thee from all heaviness.

Come to me, and keep thee warm

By my side in quietness.

I will lull thee to thy sleep

With sweet songs:— we will not weep.

Who hath talked of weeping?— Yet

There is something at my heart,

Gnawing, I would fain forget,

And an aching and a smart.

— Ah! my mother,‘ tis in vain,

For he is not come again.