Death's Chill Between

(Athenaeum, October 14, 1848)     Chide not; let me breathe a little,         For I shall not mourn him long;     Though the life-cord was so brittle,         The love-cord was very strong.     I would wake a little space     Till I find a sleeping-place.     You can go, - I shall not weep;         You can go unto your rest.     My heart-ache is all too deep,         And too sore my throbbing breast.     Can sobs be, or angry tears,     Where are neither hopes nor fears?     Though with you I am alone         And must be so everywhere,     I will make no useless moan, -         None shall say 'She could not bear:'     While life lasts I will be strong, -     But I shall not struggle long.     Listen, listen! Everywhere         A low voice is calling me,     And a step is on the stair,         And one comes ye do not see,     Listen, listen! Evermore     A dim hand knocks at the door.     Hear me; he is come again, -         My own dearest is come back.     Bring him in from the cold rain;         Bring wine, and let nothing lack.     Thou and I will rest together,     Love, until the sunny weather.     I will shelter thee from harm, -         Hide thee from all heaviness.     Come to me, and keep thee warm         By my side in quietness.     I will lull thee to thy sleep     With sweet songs: - we will not weep.     Who hath talked of weeping? - Yet         There is something at my heart,     Gnawing, I would fain forget,         And an aching and a smart.      - Ah! my mother, 'tis in vain,     For he is not come again.