Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/25

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CHRISTINA.
13
That feels in heavy dreams a strife go on,
And may not stir a finger, by the chain
Of slumber compassed; so my torpid soul
Slept numb, yet conscious, till within my heart.
That had no movement of its own. but rose
Upon Christina's heart that heaved beneath it,
At length this miracle of love was wrought:
Her spirit lay on mine, as once of old
The Prophet on the little clay-cold child
Outstretched, through warmth compelling warmth again,
And o'er the chaos of the void within
A breath moved lightly, and my soul stretched out
Its feelers darkly, as a broken vine
Puts forth its bruisèd tendrils to the sun:
A mighty yearning took me, and a sigh
Burst from my bosom, cleaving for my soul
A way to follow it, and in that hour
Methought I could have died, and known no pain
In parting from the body; then I cried,
"Oh, turn Thou me, and so shall I be turned!"
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When we arose up from our knees, her face
Was calm and happy, then she kissed me, saying,
"I call thee not my Sister, as of old,
But come with me unto my home, and there
Be thou unto me even as a Daughter,
In place of her God gave and took again,—
So hath He given thee to me." Thus she spoke,
And drew me on constraining; but my soul