Изображения страниц



And your lips clung to mine, till I prayed in my


They might never unclasp in that rapturous kiss.


You kissed me !-my heart, and my breast, and ay will,

In delirious joy for a moment stood still;

Life had for me then no temptations or charms,
No vista of pleasure outside of your arms;
And were I this instant an angel possessed
Of the glory and peace that are given the blest,
I would fling my white robes unrepiningly down,
And take from my forehead its beautiful crown,
To nestle once more in the haven of rest,
With your lips upon mine, and my head on your

You kissed me !-my soul, in a bliss so divine, Reeled and swooned like a foolish man drunken with wine;

And I thought 'twere delicious to die then, if death

Would come while my lips were still moist with your breath;

"Twere delicious to die, if my heart might grow cold

While your arms wrapt me close in that passionate hold.

And these are the questions I ask day and night: Must my life taste but one such exquisite delight?

Would you care if your breast were my shelter as then? to

And if you were here, would you kiss me again? JOSIE S. HUNT.


"She is dead!" they said to him; "come away, Kiss her and leave her-thy love is clay!"

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair, On her forehead of stone they laid it fair;

Over her eyes, that gazed too much,
They drew the lids with a gentle touch.

With a tender touch they closed up well
The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell;

About her brows and beautiful face
They tied her veil and her marriage lace;

And drew on her white feet her white silk shoesWhich were the whitest no eye could choose

And over her bosom they crossed her hands. "Come away!" they said, "God understands."


And there was silence, and nothing there
But silence, and the scents of eglantere,

And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary;
And they said, "As a lady should lie, lies she."

And they held their breath till they left the room With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and gloom.

But he who loved her too well to dread

The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead,

He lit his lamp and took the key
And turned it, alone again—he and she.


He and she; but she would not speak, Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek.

He and she; yet she would not smile,

Though he called her the name she loved erewhile.

He and she; still she did not move

To any one passionate whisper of love.

Then he said, "Cold lips, and breasts without breath,

Is there no voice, no language of death?

Dumb to the ear and still to the sense,
But to heart and to soul distinct, intense?

See now, I will listen with soul, not ear;
What was the secret of dying, dear?

Was it the infinite wonder of all
That you ever could let life's flower fall?

Or was it a greater marvel to feel
The perfect calm o'er the agony steal?

Was the miracle greater to find how deep Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep?

Did life roll back its records, dear,
And show, as they say it does, all things clear?

And was it the innermost heart of the bliss
To find out so, what a wisdom love is?

O, perfect dead! O dead most dear
I hold the breath of my soul to hear!

I listen as deep as to horrible hell,
As high as to heaven, and you do not tell.

There must be pleasure in dying, sweet,
To make you so placid from head to feet!

I would tell you darling, if I were dead,
And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed-

I would say, though the Angel of Death had laid

His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid.


You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes, Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise,

The very strangest and suddenest thing
Of all the surprises that dying must bring."


Ah, foolish world! O most kind dead!
Though he told me, who will believe it was said?

Who will believe that he heard her say,
With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way,

The utmost wonder is this-I hear

And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear;

And am your angel, who was your bride,
And know that, though dead, I have never died."


I love you so dear soul, I love you so!
And yet it is so hard-and yet I know
That I must hold my love with tiger clutch,

Lest you who know so much, should know too


For what you see 'tis safe for you to know,
But what I hide would be my overthrow.
I have to hold my hands when near you, there,
To keep my straying fingers from your hair.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »