Death’s Chill Between

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 space Till 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! 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. 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 sleep With 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.