| |
| COME not again! I dwell with you | |
| Above the realm of frost and dew, | |
| Of pain and fire, and growth to death. | |
| I dwell with you where never breath | |
| Is drawn, but fragrance vital flows | 5 |
| From life to life, even as a rose | |
| Unseen pours sweetness through each vein, | |
| And from the air distils again. | |
| You are my rose unseen: we live | |
| Where each to other joy may give | 10 |
| In ways untold, by means unknown | |
| And secret as the magnet-stone. | |
| |
| For which of us, indeed, is dead? | |
| No more I lean to kiss your head,— | |
| The gold-red hair so thick upon it: | 15 |
| Joy feels no more the touch that won it, | |
| When o’er my brow your pearl-cool palm | |
| In tenderness so childish, calm, | |
| Crept softly, once. Yet, see, my arm | |
| Is strong, and still my blood runs warm: | 20 |
| |
| I still can work and think and weep. | |
| But all this show of life I keep | |
| Is but the shadow of your shine, | |
| Flicker of your fire, husk of your vine; | |
| Therefore you are not dead, nor I, | 25 |
| Who hear your laughter’s minstrelsy. | |
| Among the stars your feet are set; | |
| Your little feet are dancing yet | |
| Their rhythmic beat, as when on earth. | |
| So swift, so slight, are death and birth! | 30 |
| |
| Come not again, dear child. If thou | |
| By any chance couldst break that vow | |
| Of silence, at thy last hour made; | |
| If to this grim life unafraid | |
| Thou couldst return, and melt the frost | 35 |
| Wherein thy bright limbs’ power was lost; | |
| Still would I whisper—since so fair | |
| The silent comradeship we share— | |
| Yes, whisper mid the unbidden rain | |
| Of tears: “Come not! Come not again!” | 40 |
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