(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.Can sobs be, or angry tears,Where are neither hopes nor fears?
Though with you I am alone And 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,And a step is on the stair, And one comes ye do not see,Listen, listen! EvermoreA 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.
I will shelter thee from harm,-- Hide thee from all heaviness.Come to me, and keep thee warm By 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.--Ah! my mother, 'tis in vain,For he is not come again.