Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Selected Poems (1900). VI. Death and LifeAnnie Matheson (1853–1924)
O D
And Life has yielded up
The hidden joys that, one by one,
Make sweet his bitter cup,
Then only, at the set of sun,
Come thou with me to sup.
And, ere we sup, wilt lay
Thy domino of sombre dyes
Within my tomb away,
Then flash on my delighted eyes
As Life, in Life’s array.
But wear thy time-worn dress,
No kindlier garment canst thou don,
Nor shall I love thee less—
The hurried air will then be gone
That mars thy loveliness:
That blend with love and bliss,
For life hereafter we are fain,
Not wholly unlike this,—
But life more vital, to regain
What we, through weakness, miss.
Of whom I had no fear:
(Stern Life, on me his brows would bend,
Nor seemed his bidding clear),—
But when I saw thee hither wend,
I knew that Life was dear.
(Day’s work unfinished still),
A terror shadowed all the place,
A prayer possessed my will;
“A little longer grant me grace
While I my day fulfil!”
More solemn grew my dread;
No death-like phantom crossed my floor,
But Life himself instead,
His mocking smile, unseen before,
With shamefast eyes I read.
A moment in thy sight,
And wast thou then so sore afraid
Of thy friend, Death, to-night?—
Go, finish what thy labour made,
Nor waste the waning light.”
When death does frown on me,
Will throw the mask into the dust
That I true Life may see,
His garb of joy from moth and rust
Eternally set free.
Than shone his earthly grace,
Which care and grief and hurry mar
And bonds of time and space;
Life always where earth’s loved ones are,
Before Love’s unveiled face.