IN THIS new shade of Death, the show Passes me still of form and face; Some bent, some gazing as they go, Some swiftly, some at a dull pace, Not one that speaks in any case. If only one might speak!--the one Who never waits till I come near; But always seated all alone As listening to the sunken air, Is gone before I come to her. O dearest! while we lived and died A living death in every day, Some hours we still were side by side, When where I was you too might stay And rest and need not go away. O nearest, furthest! Can there be At length some hard-earned heart-won home, Where,--exile changed for sanctuary,-- Our lot may fill indeed its sum, And you may wait and I may come? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON NO-MORE-FEAR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET HIGHLAND HARRY by ROBERT BURNS ON THE STAR OF 'THE LEGION OF HONOR' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON CHARADES: 3 by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17 by THOMAS CAMPION |