LAST night I woke and found between us drawn, -- Between us, where no mortal fear may creep, -- The vision of Death dividing us in sleep; And suddenly I thought, Ere light shall dawn Some day, -- the substance, not the shadow, of Death Shall cleave us like a sword. The vision passed, But all its new-born horror held me fast, And till day broke I listened for your breath. Some day to wake, and find that coloured skies, And pipings in the woods, and petals wet, Are things for aching memory to forget; And that your living hands and mouth and eyes Are part of all the world's old histories! -- Dear God! a little longer, ah not yet! |