10
Can sobs be, or angry tears,
Where are neither hopes nor fears?

Though with you I am alone
And must be so everywhere,
I will make no useless moan,--
None shall say 'She could not bear:'
While life lasts I will be strong,--
But I shall not struggle long.

Listen, listen! Everywhere
A low voice is calling me, 20
And a step is on the stair,
And one comes ye do not see,
Listen, listen! Evermore
A dim hand knocks at the door.

Hear me; he is come again,--
My own dearest is come back.
Bring him in from the cold rain;
Bring wine, and let nothing lack.
Thou and I will rest together,
Love, until the sunny weather. 30

I will shelter thee from harm,--
Hide thee from all heaviness.
Come to me, and keep thee warm
By my side in quietness.
I will lull thee to thy sleep
With sweet songs:--we will not weep.

Who hath talked of weeping?--Yet
There is something at my heart,
Gnawing, I would fain forget,
And an aching and a smart. 40
--Ah! my mother, 'tis in vain,
For he is _not_ come again.

HEART'S CHILL BETWEEN

(_Athenaeum_, October 21, 1848)

I did not chide him, though I knew
That he was false to me.
Chide the exhaling of the dew,
The ebbing of the sea,
The fading of a rosy hue,--
But not inconstancy.

Why strive for love when love is o'er?
Why bind a restive heart?--
He never knew the pain I bore
In saying: 'We must part; 10
Let us be friends and nothing more.'
--Oh, woman's shallow art!

But it is over, it is done,--
I hardly heed it now;
So many weary years have run
Since then, I think not how
Things might have been,--but greet each one
With an unruffled brow.

What time I am where others be,
My heart seems very calm-- 20
Stone calm; but if all go from me,
There comes a vague alarm,
A shrinking in the memory
From some forgotten harm.

And often through the long, long night,
Waking when none are near,
I feel my heart beat fast with fright,
Yet know not what I fear.
Oh how I long to see the light,
And the sweet birds to hear! 30

To have the sun upon my face,
To look up through the trees,
To walk forth in the open space
And listen to the breeze,--
And not to dream the burial-place
Is cloggi