Death’s Chill Between

(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 spaceTill 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 aloneAnd 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 warmBy my side in quietness.I will lull thee to thy sleepWith 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.

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