Then I lifted up her head
And I softly to her said
Blanche, we twain will soon be dead
Let us pray that we may die
Let us pray that we may lie
Where the softening wind does sigh
That in heaven amid the bliss
Of the blessed where God is
Mid the angels we may kiss.
We may stand with joined hands
Face to face with angel bands
They too stand with joined hands.
Yea, she said, but kiss me now
Ere my sinning spirit go
To the place no man doth know
There I kissed her as she lay
O! her spirit passed away
'Mid the flowers her body lay.
What a dream is this of mine
I am almost like to pine
For this dreary dream of mine.
O dead love thy hand is here
O dead Blanche thy golden hair
Lies along the flowers fair.
I am all aweary love
Of the bright blue sky above
I will lie beside thee love.
So over them over them ever
The long long wind swept on
And lovingly lovingly ever
The birds sang on their song.
Such were the first beginnings. But his discovery that he could write prose came hard on the heels of his discovery that he could write poetry, and for some little time prose was the vehicle in which he could express his thoughts and imaginations with greater
