Seven Times Five. Widowhood.

I sleep and rest, my heart makes moan     Before I am well awake;     "Let me bleed! O let me alone,     Since I must not break!"     For children wake, though fathers sleep     With a stone at foot and at head:     O sleepless God, forever keep,     Keep both living and dead!     I lift mine eyes, and what to see     But a world happy and fair!     I have not wished it to mourn with me -     Comfort is not there.     O what anear but golden brooms,     And a waste of reedy rills!     O what afar but the fine glooms     On the rare blue hills!     I shall not die, but live forlore -     How bitter it is to part!     O to meet thee, my love, once more!     O my heart, my heart!     No more to hear, no more to see!     O that an echo might wake     And waft one note of thy psalm to me     Ere my heart-strings break!     I should know it how faint soe'er,     And with angel voices blent;     O once to feel thy spirit anear,     I could be content!     Or once between the gates of gold,     While an angel entering trod,     But once - thee sitting to behold     On the hills of God!