FIRST LOVE

“No, no! Leave me not in this dark hour,”

She cried. And I,

“Thou foolish dear, but call not dark this hour;

What night doth lour?”

And nought did she reply,

But in her eye

The clamorous trouble spoke, and then was still.

O that I heard her once more speak,

Or even with troubled eye

Teach me her fear, that I might seek

Poppies for misery.

The hour was dark, although I knew it not,

But when the livid dawn broke then I knew,

How while I slept the dense night through

Treachery's worm her fainting fealty slew.

O that I heard her once more speak

As then — so weak —

“No, no! Leave me not in this dark hour.”

That I might answer her,

“Love, be at rest, for nothing now shall stir

Thy heart, but my heart beating there.”