| |
| ALL the first night she might not weep | |
| But watched till morning came, | |
| And when she slept at dawn, she heard | |
| The dead man call her name. | |
| |
| The second night she watched and wept | 5 |
| And called on death for grace, | |
| And when she slept before the dawn | |
| She saw the dead man’s face. | |
| |
| The third night through she laughed as one | |
| That knows her way to bliss, | 10 |
| And in the instant ere she slept | |
| She felt the dead man’s kiss. | |
| |
| She rose and faced the flickering fire | |
| (And oh, but she was fair!), | |
| Like a wild witch behind her danced | 15 |
| The shadow of her hair. | |
| |
| She took her penknife from its sheath, | |
| The tender blade she kissed, | |
| And by the firelight’s dying leap | |
| She bared her little wrist. | 20 |
| |
| And where the vein ran large and blue | |
| She cut, once and again, | |
| Yet ere she swooned from life, she knew | |
| Her death had been in vain. | |
| |
| For while life thundered in her ears, | 25 |
| Ere yet her pulse might fail, | |
| Far off across the kindless night | |
| She heard the dead man’s wail, | |
| |
| And knew her doom was one with theirs | |
| That kill the life God gave, | 30 |
| And that she might not leave this earth | |
| Her soul alive to save, | |
| But ay must dwell within that house | |
| As in a living grave, | |
| |
| While he for whom she died might ne’er | 35 |
| Win to her in that place, | |
| But must for ever make his moan | |
| Ranging in agony alone | |
| The trackless void of space. | |
| |
