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I MY dead Love came to me, and said: | |
| ‘God gives me one hour’s rest, | |
| To spend upon the earth with thee: | |
| How shall we spend it best?’ | |
| |
| ‘Why as of old,’ I said, and so | 5 |
| We quarrelled as of old. | |
| But when I turned to make my peace, | |
| That one short hour was told. | |
| |
II Nine nights she did not come to me: | |
| The heaven was filled with rain; | 10 |
| And as it fell, and fell, I said, | |
| ‘She will not come again.’ | |
| |
| Last night she came, not as before, | |
| But in a strange attire; | |
| Weary she seemed, and very faint, | 15 |
| As though she came from fire. | |
| |
III She is not happy! It was noon; | |
| The sun fell on my head: | |
| And it was not an hour in which | |
| We think upon the dead. | 20 |
| |
| She is not happy! I should know | |
| Her voice, much more her cry; | |
| And close beside me a great rose | |
| Had just begun to die. | |
| |
| She is not happy! As I walked, | 25 |
| Of her I was aware: | |
| She cried out, like a creature hurt, | |
| Close by me in the air. | |
| |
IV Under the trembling summer stars, | |
| I turned from side to side; | 30 |
| When she came in and sat with me, | |
| As though she had not died. | |
| |
| And she was kind to me and sweet, | |
| She had her ancient way; | |
| Remembered how I liked her hand | 35 |
| Amid my hair to stray. | |
| |
| She had forgotten nothing, yet | |
| Older she seemed, and still: | |
| All quietly she took my kiss, | |
| Even as a mother will. | 40 |
| |
| She rose, and in the streak of dawn | |
| She turned as if to go: | |
| But then again came back to me; | |
| My eyes implored her so! | |
| |
| She pushed the hair from off my brow, | 45 |
| And looked into my eyes. | |
| ‘I live in calm,’ she said, ‘and there | |
| Am learning to be wise. | |
| |
| ‘Why grievest thou? I pity thee | |
| Still turning on this bed.’ | 50 |
| ‘And art thou happy?’ I exclaimed. | |
| ‘Alas!’ she sighed, and fled. | |
| |
V I woke; she had been standing by, | |
| With wonder on her face. | |
| She came toward me, very bright, | 55 |
| As from a blessèd place. | |
| |
| She touched me not, but smiling spoke, | |
| And softly as before. | |
| ‘They gave me drink from some slow stream; | |
| I love thee now no more.’ | 60 |
| |
VI The other night she hurried in, | |
| Her face was wild with fear: | |
| ‘Old friend,’ she said, ‘I am pursued, | |
| May I take refuge here?’ | |
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