DEATH'S CHILL BETWEEN
(Athenaeum, October 14, 1848)
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.