But now I feel as though a kiss
Of hers should ever give me birth
In some new heaven of life-long bliss;
And heedlessly, athwart my mirth,
I see Death digging day by day
A grave; and, very far away,
I hear the falling of the earth.
Ho there, if thou wilt wait for me
Thou Death!—I say—keep in thy shade;
Crouch down behind the willow tree,
Lest thou shouldst make my love afraid;
If thou hast aught with me, pale friend,
Some flitting leaf its sigh shall lend
To tell me when the grave is made!
And lo, e'en while I now rejoice,
Encircled by my love's fair arm,
There cometh up to me a voice,
Yea, through the fragrance and the charm;
Quite like some sigh the forest heaves
Quite soft—a murmur of dead leaves,
And not a voice that bodeth harm:
Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/52
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