(The Argosy, Feb. 1866.)
God strengthen me to bear myself;That heaviest weight of all to bear,Inalienable weight of care.
All others are outside myself,I lock my door and bar them outThe turmoil, tedium, gad-about.
I lock my door upon myself,And bar them out; but who shall wallSelf from myself, most loathed of all?
If I could once lay down myself,And start self-purged upon the raceThat all must run! Death runs apace.
If I could set aside myself,And start with lightened heart uponThe road by all men overgone!
God harden me against myself,This coward with pathetic voiceWho craves for ease, and rest, and joys:
Myself, arch-traitor to myself;My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,My clog whatever road I go.
Yet One there is can curb myself,Can roll the strangling load from me,Break off the yoke and set me free.
IF
(The Argosy, March 1866.)
If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day, O, what a day to-day would be!But now he's away, miles and miles away From me across the sea.
O little bird, flying, flying, flying To your nest in the warm west,Tell him as you pass that I am dying, As you pass home to your nest.
I have a sister, I have a brother, A faithful hound, a tame white dove;But I had another, once I had another, And I miss him, my love, my love!
In this weary world it is so cold, so cold, While I sit here all alone;I would not like to wait and to grow old, But just to be dead and gone.
Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed, Fair where I am lying:Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead-- He for whom I am dying.
Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it, And on the stone write my name;If he never comes, I shall never know it, But sleep on all the same.