WHICH?

The wind was on the forest,

And silence on the wold;

And darkness on the waters,

And heaven was starry cold;

When Sleep, with mystic magic,

Bade me this thing behold:

This side, an iron woodland;

That side, an iron waste;

And heaven, a tower of iron,

Wherein the wan moon paced,

Still as a phantom woman,

Ice-eyed and icy-faced.

And through the haunted tower

Of silence and of night,

My Soul and I went only,

My Soul, whose face was white,

Whose one hand signed me listen,

One bore a taper-light.

For, lo! a voice behind me

Kept sighing in my ear

The dreams my flesh accepted,

My mind refused to hear —

Of one I loved and loved not,

Whose spirit now spake near.

And, lo! a voice before me

Kept calling constantly

The hopes my mind accepted,

My flesh refused to see —

Of one I loved and loved not,

Whose spirit spake to me.

This way the one would bid me;

This way the other saith:—

Sweet is the voice behind me

Of LIFE that followeth;

And sweet the voice before me

Of LIFE whose name is DEATH.