Littell's Living Age/Volume 136/Issue 1760/At the Last
Come once, just once, dear love, when I am dead —
Ah, God! I would it were this hour, tonight —
And look your last upon the frozen face
That was to you a summer's brief delight.
The silent lips will not entreat you then,
Nor the eyes vex you with unwelcome tears;
The low, sad voice will utter no complaint,
Nor the heart tremble with its restless fears.
I shall he still — you will forgive me then
For all that I have been, or failed to be:
Say, as you look, "Poor heart, she loved me well,
No other love will be so true to me"
Then bend and kiss the lips that will not speak —
One little kiss for all the dear, dead days —
Say once, "God rest her soul!" then go in peace,
No haunting ghost shall meet you in your ways.