(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. 10
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, 20
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. 30
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. 40
--Ah! my mother, 'tis in vain,
For he is _not_ come again.
