 | Poems and Translations |  |
84
SONG.
It is late, love, late, but I rock thee on my heart,
Through long years of bitter sorrow we have toiled and striven apart.
It is late, love, late, and thy heart hath need of rest
From the anguish of its waiting—let it sleep upon my breast.
Through long years of bitter sorrow we have toiled and striven apart.
It is late, love, late, and thy heart hath need of rest
From the anguish of its waiting—let it sleep upon my breast.
It is late, love, late, but we two have met at last
And I hold thee all mine own now, and clasp thee close and fast;
It is late, love, late, but thine eyes are calm in rest,
While I rock thee on my breast, love, rock thee on my breast.
And I hold thee all mine own now, and clasp thee close and fast;
It is late, love, late, but thine eyes are calm in rest,
While I rock thee on my breast, love, rock thee on my breast.
It is late, love, late, and thy brow is deathly pale
And before thine eyes there cometh a strange and filmy veil;
And I rock thee, but thou leanest with a dull and heavy weight,
And thy hand is very cold—O my God! it is too late!
And before thine eyes there cometh a strange and filmy veil;
And I rock thee, but thou leanest with a dull and heavy weight,
And thy hand is very cold—O my God! it is too late!
June 20th, 1866.
| Poems and Translations | |