 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
45
After
And when I die, you should be grieved, and go
Dumbly into the bitter fields alone,
For you have long since made your widow's moan,
And carried in your heart the widow's woe.
Outrageous Death hath neither feint nor blow
To hurt you further. Thus without a groan
I shall go down, and be as cold as stone,
And you will kiss me and I shall not know.
Dumbly into the bitter fields alone,
For you have long since made your widow's moan,
And carried in your heart the widow's woe.
Outrageous Death hath neither feint nor blow
To hurt you further. Thus without a groan
I shall go down, and be as cold as stone,
And you will kiss me and I shall not know.
But haply then some mercy may befall,
And to your breast, this death in life being past,
Quiet may come and peace without alloy:
Seeing you lone and lovely and downcast
They will possess you with a secret joy
And keep you with an angel at your call.
And to your breast, this death in life being past,
Quiet may come and peace without alloy:
Seeing you lone and lovely and downcast
They will possess you with a secret joy
And keep you with an angel at your call.
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |