Page:The collected poems, lyrical and narrative, of A. Mary F. Robinson.djvu/127

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The Dead Friend


ii.

The house was empty where you came no more;
I sat in awe and dread;
When, lo! I heard a hand that shook the door,
And knew it was the Dead.

One moment—ah!—the anguish took my side,
The fainting of the will.
"God of the living, leave me not!" I cried,
And all my flesh grew chill.

One moment ; then I opened wide my heart
And open flung the door:
"What matter whence thou comest, what thou art?—
Come to me!" … Nevermore.

iii.

They lie at peace, the darkness fills
The hollow of their empty gaze.
The dust falls in their ears and stills
The echo of our fruitless days;

The earth takes back their baser part;
The brain no longer bounds the dream:
The broken vial of the heart
Lets out its passion in a stream.

And in this silence that they have
One inner vision grows more bright:
The Dead remember in the grave
As I remember here to-night.

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