University of Virginia Library

And so, to soothe her, spoke my tortured voice,
Breathing a poem that once she loved and knew,
How in death's anguish shall the soul rejoice,
And joy be hers when last she struggles through.
And ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘some time I too shall see
“Peace out of pain,” “a light,” and “then thy breast.”
Safe in my arms, belovèd, you shall be
In long embrace, “and with God be the rest.”’
And hearing me with her bewildered brain,
She caught the verses with a sudden smile,
And ‘One fight more,’ she quotes the verse again,
‘The last and best,’ she quiet lay a while,
And then she spoke more calmly than before:
‘I was a dreamer, and I'll dream again,
One dream, the last and best, the first and last.
Death blesses me the dream I can retain,
My first sweet dream, the evil time is past.
The dream that made the world a joyful place,
Worth being born for, strong one's load to bear,
Easy to live, easy to fight and face,
To suffer all its tortures and its care.
Death shall not conquer me, I will not die
In his cold land, but fly to some embrace
In that belovèd sphere, where my one cry
Can summon to my aid an angel's face.
I will not die.’ And then she turned to me,
And peace and sanity shone in her eyes,
As though at last my face she chanced to see.
I hid it from her, seeking a disguise,
For fear she still did hate me, but she said,
As though the first days were, ‘And have you come?
You were so long!’ then heavy leaned her head
Upon my shoulder, and her lips were dumb.