III

On a desperate night — bitter black with pain,—

My soul returned to haunt me again.

We two kept vigil till break of day,

But the moon bore witness, I did not pray.

I dreamt I drifted with a name on my lips,

Where the clouds were sea waves, and the stars little ships.

I dreamt,— and lay on the shell-bitten sod,

Like a thing that had been forgotten of God.

I saw the smoke of the battle roll

Over many a swift departing soul,—

But when the dawn was a violet tide,

A shadow came and knelt at my side.

No — not a shadow — or mystery —

But a rose of the darkness, she came to me.

Mist-grey was her gown, and about her head

Was a shining band with a cross of red.

Her eyes were closed, for she dared not see

What the guns and the dark had made of me.

So I caught her gown in fear she would pass,

Like a lovely shadow, across the grass.

“Who are you?” I cried, “who have found me here

Where I have lain, this year upon year?”

“No! No! but one night, beloved,” — she said,

“While I searched for you all among the dead.

“But you were so strong you could not die,

Though Azrael touched you as he passed by.”

And then by a flame that lit up the skies,

I looked once again in Delilah's eyes.

They had out-lived fear, and were sweet, and deep

As the eyes of an Angel, who bringeth sleep.

“O brave one!” she said, “You soon shall see

From your thirst and your pain I can set you free!

“Here! The water flask!— I will lift your head,—

Drink if you will, and spare not,” she said.

“Be patient, and wait! See here in your arm,

The poppies of God shall work their charm.”

So she spoke, while her voice seemed faint and far

As though it drifted down from a star.

“I have come,” she faltered, “beloved at last” —

“Even so” — I said, “from the long-gone past.

“I would know,” I cried, “how you came to me

Through this hell where no woman should ever be?”

“I heard you call,” she answered, “and then

I followed the road of the out-bound men.

“I followed the bearers, for far — and far,—

They travel wherever the wounded are.

“Picket and sentry, and the men who fly,

Made the holy sign as I hurried by.”

“Here and there where the grass was red,

I stopped for a moment beside the dead.

“I pressed my lips to their tunic's hem,—

And often I folded the hands of them.

“But I could not stay,— and when dawn was near,

You called again — and I found you here.”

“O Sweet — no more!” I said. “Tell me no more!

For Peace has come in through the morning's door.

“There is only this at the end of my quest —

Only you — and Love — and a spirit at rest.”

Then came the bearers to lift me away —

But beside me her shadow moved — tender and grey.