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995

IN STATE

Is it the martins or katydids?—
Early morning or late at night?
A dream, belike, kneeling down on the lids
Of a dying man's eyesight.
[OMITTED]
Over and over I heard the rain—
Over and over I waked to see
The blaze of the lamp as again and again
Its stare insulted me.
[OMITTED]
It is not the click of the clock I hear—
It is the pulse of the clock,—and lo!
How it throbs and throbs on the quickened ear
Of the dead man listening so!
I heard them whisper “She would not come;”
But, being dead, I knew—I knew! ...
Some hearts they love us alive, and some
They love us dead—they do!

996

And I am dead—and I joy to be,—
For here are my folded hands, so cold,
And yet blood-warm with the roses she
Has given me to hold.
Dead—yea, dead!—But I hear the beat
Of her heart, as her warm lips touch my brow—
And O how sweet—how blinding sweet
To know that she loves me now!