| |
| IF I should die to-night, | |
| My friends would look upon my quiet face | |
| Before they laid it in its resting-place, | |
| And deem that death had left it almost fair; | |
| And, laying snow-white flowers against my hair, | 5 |
| Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness, | |
| And fold my hands with lingering caress,— | |
| Poor hands, so empty and so cold to-night! | |
| |
| If I should die to-night, | |
| My friends would call to mind, with loving thought, | 10 |
| Some kindly deed the icy hands had wrought; | |
| Some gentle word the frozen lips had said; | |
| Errands on which the willing feet had sped. | |
| The memory of my selfishness and pride, | |
| My hasty words, would all be put aside, | 15 |
| And so I should be loved and mourned to-night. | |
| |
| If I should die to-night, | |
| Even hearts estranged would turn once more to me, | |
| Recalling other days remorsefully; | |
| The eyes that chill me with averted glance | 20 |
| Would look upon me as of yore, perchance, | |
| And soften in the old familiar way; | |
| For who could war with dumb unconscious clay? | |
| So I might rest, forgiven of all, to-night. | |
| |
| Oh, friends, I pray to-night | 25 |
| Keep not your kisses for my dead, cold brow— | |
| The way is lonely, let me feel them now. | |
| Think gently of me; I am travel-worn; | |
| My faltering feet are pierced with many a thorn. | |
| Forgive, oh, hearts estranged, forgive, I plead! | 30 |
| When dreamless rest is mine I shall not need | |
| The tenderness for which I long to-night. | |
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