Volume Ii Part 139 (2/2)

Come not, O Death, with hollow tone, And soundless step, and clammy hand-- Lo, I am now no less alone Than in thy desolate, doubtful land;

But with that sweet arid subtle scent That ever clung about her (such As with all things she brushed was blent); And with her quick and tender touch.

With the dim gold that lit her hair, Crown thyself, Death; let fall thy tread So light that I may dream her there, And turn upon my dying bed.

And through my chilling veins shall flame My love, as though beneath her breath; And in her voice but call my name, And I will follow thee, O Death.

Henry Cuyler Bunner [1855-1896]

”I SHALL NOT CRY RETURN”

I shall not cry Return! Return!

Nor weep my years away; But just as long as sunsets burn, And dawns make no delay, I shall be lonesome--I shall miss Your hand, your voice, your smile, your kiss.

Not often shall I speak your name, For what would strangers care That once a sudden tempest came And swept my gardens bare, And then you pa.s.sed, and in your place Stood Silence with her lifted face.

Not always shall this parting be, For though I travel slow, I, too, may claim eternity And find the way you go; And so I do my task and wait The opening of the outer gate.

Ellen M. H. Gates [1835-1920]

”OH! s.n.a.t.c.hED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM”

Oh! s.n.a.t.c.hed away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

And oft by yon blue gus.h.i.+ng stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!

Away! we know that tears are vain, That Death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less?

And thou,--who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

George Gordon Byron [1788-1824]

TO MARY

If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be: It never through my mind had pa.s.sed The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more!

And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain.

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