Thank God!  Those gazers’ eyes are gone at last! 
The guards are crouching underneath the rock;
The lights are fading in the town below,
Around the cottage which this morn was ours. 
Kind sun, to set, and leave us here alone;
Alone upon our crosses with our God;
While all the angels watch us from the stars. 
Kind moon, to shine so clear and full on him,
And bathe his limbs in glory, for a sign
Of what awaits him!  Oh look on him, Lord! 
Look, and remember how he saved thy lamb! 
   Oh listen to me, teacher, husband, love,
Never till now loved utterly!  Oh say,
Say you forgive me!  No—­you must not speak: 
You said it to me hours ago—­long hours! 
Now you must rest, and when to-morrow comes
Speak to the people, call them home to God,
A deacon on the Cross, as in the Church;
And plead from off the tree with outspread arms,
To show them that the Son of God endured
For them—­and me.  Hush!  I alone will speak,
And while away the hours till dawn for you. 
I know you have forgiven me; as I lay
Beneath your feet, while they were binding me,
I knew I was forgiven then!  When I cried
’Here am I, husband!  The lost lamb returned,
All re-baptized in blood!’ and you said, ’Come! 
Come to thy bride-bed, martyr, wife once more!’
From that same moment all my pain was gone;
And ever since those sightless eyes have smiled
Love—­love!  Alas, those eyes!  They made me fall. 
I could not bear to see them, bleeding, dark,
Never, no never to look into mine;
Never to watch me round the little room
Singing about my work, or flash on me
Looks bright with counsel.—­Then they drove me mad
With talk of nameless tortures waiting you—­
And I could save you!  You would hear your love—­
They knew you loved me, cruel men!  And then—­
Then came a dream; to say one little word,
One easy wicked word, we both might say,
And no one hear us, but the lictors round;
One tiny sprinkle of the incense grains,
And both, both free!  And life had just begun—­
Only three months—­short months—­your wedded wife
Only three months within the cottage there—­
Hoping I bore your child. . . . 
Ah! husband!  Saviour!  God! think gently of me! 
I am forgiven! . . . 
   And then another dream;
A flash—­so quick, I could not bear the blaze;
I could not see the smoke among the light—­
To wander out through unknown lands, and lead
You by the hand through hamlet, port, and town,
On, on, until we died; and stand each day
To glory in you, as you preached and prayed
From rock and bourne-stone, with that voice, those words,
Mingled with fire and honey—­you would wake,
Bend, save whole nations! would not that atone
For one short word?—­ay, make it right, to save
You, you, to fight the battles of the Lord? 
And so—­and so—­alas! you knew the rest! 
You answered me. . . .