| |
| “SHE is dead!” they said to him; “come away; | |
| Kiss her and leave her,—thy love is clay!” | |
| |
| They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair; | |
| On her forehead of stone they laid it fair; | |
| |
| Over her eyes that gazed too much | 5 |
| They drew the lids with a gentle touch; | |
| |
| With a tender touch they closed up well | |
| The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell; | |
| |
| About her brows and beautiful face | |
| They tied her veil and her marriage-lace, | 10 |
| |
| And drew on her white feet her white silk shoes— | |
| Which were the whitest no eye could choose! | |
| |
| And over her bosom they crossed her hands. | |
| “Come away!” they said; “God understands!” | |
| |
| And there was silence, and nothing there | 15 |
| But silence, and scents of eglantere, | |
| |
| And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary; | |
| And they said, “As a lady should lie, lies she.” | |
| |
| And they held their breath till they left the room, | |
| With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and gloom. | 20 |
| |
| But he who loved her too well to dread | |
| The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, | |
| |
| He lit his lamp and took the key | |
| And turned it. Alone again—he and she! | |
| |
| He and she; but she would not speak, | 25 |
| Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek. | |
| |
| He and she; yet she would not smile, | |
| Though he called her the name she loved ere-while. | |
| |
| He and she; still she did not move | |
| To any one passionate whisper of love. | 30 |
| |
| Then he said: “Cold lips, and breasts without breath, | |
| Is there no voice, no language of death, | |
| |
| “Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, | |
| But to heart and to soul distinct, intense? | |
| |
| “See now; I will listen with soul, not ear; | 35 |
| What was the secret of dying, dear? | |
| |
| “Was it the infinite wonder of all | |
| That you ever could let life’s flower fall? | |
| |
| “Or was it a greater marvel to feel | |
| The perfect calm o’er the agony steal? | 40 |
| |
| “Was the miracle greater to find how deep | |
| Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep? | |
| |
| “Did life roll back its records, dear, | |
| And show, as they say it does, past things clear? | |
| |
| “And was it the innermost heart of the bliss | 45 |
| To find out, so, what a wisdom love is? | |
| |
| “O perfect dead! O dead most dear, | |
| I hold the breath of my soul to hear! | |
| |
| “I listen as deep as to horrible hell, | |
| As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. | 50 |
| |
| “There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, | |
| To make you so placid from head to feet! | |
| |
| “I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, | |
| And ’t were your hot tears upon my brow shed,— | |
| |
| “I would say, though the angel of death had laid | 55 |
| His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. | |
| |
| “You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes, | |
| Which of all death’s was the chiefest surprise, | |
| |
| “The very strangest and suddenest thing | |
| Of all the surprises that dying must bring.” | 60 |
| |
| Ah, foolish world! O, most kind dead! | |
| Though he told me, who will believe it was said? | |
| |
| Who will believe that he heard her say, | |
| With a sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way: | |
| |
| “The utmost wonder is this,—I hear, | 65 |
| And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear; | |
| |
| “And am your angel, who was your bride, | |
| And know that, though dead, I have never died.” | |
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