 | Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems |  |
214
THE FEAR OF DEATH.
Last night I woke and found between us drawn,—Between us, where no mortal fear may creep,—
The vision of Death dividing us in sleep;
And suddenly I thought, Ere light shall dawn
Some day,—the substance, not the shadow, of Death
Shall cleave us like a sword. The vision passed,
But all its new-born horror held me fast,
And till day broke I listened for your breath.
Some day to wake, and find that coloured skies,
And pipings in the woods, and petals wet,
Are things for aching memory to forget;
And that your living hands and mouth and eyes
Are part of all the world's old histories!—
Dear God! a little longer, ah not yet!
| Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems | |