| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
After Death | | By Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894) |
| | | THE CURTAINS were half drawn, the floor was swept | |
| And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may | |
| Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, | |
| Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept. | |
| He leaned above me, thinking that I slept | 5 |
| And could not hear him; but I heard him say: | |
| ‘Poor child, poor child’: and as he turned away | |
| Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. | |
| He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold | |
| That hid my face, or take my hand in his, | 10 |
| Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head: | |
| He did not love me living; but once dead | |
| He pitied me; and very sweet it is | |
| To know he still is warm though I am cold. | | | | |
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