’Feel not after my clasping hand:  40
  I am but a shadow, come from the meadow
Where many lie, but no tree can stand.

’We are trees which have shed their leaves: 
  Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;
Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.

’I could rest if you would not moan
  Hour after hour; I have no power
To shut my ears where I lie alone.

’I could rest if you would not cry;
  But there’s no sleeping while you sit weeping—­ 50
Watching, weeping so bitterly.’—­

’Woe’s me! woe’s me! for this I have heard. 
  Oh night of sorrow!—­oh black to-morrow! 
Is it thus that you keep your word?

’O you who used so to shelter me
  Warm from the least wind—­why, now the east wind
Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.

’O my husband of flesh and blood,
  For whom my mother I left, and brother,
And all I had, accounting it good, 60

’What do you do there, underground,
  In the dark hollow?  I’m fain to follow. 
What do you do there?—­what have you found?’—­

’What I do there I must not tell: 
  But I have plenty:  kind wife, content ye: 
It is well with us—­it is well.

’Tender hand hath made our nest;
  Our fear is ended, our hope is blended
With present pleasure, and we have rest.’—­

’Oh, but Robin, I’m fain to come, 70
  If your present days are so pleasant;
For my days are so wearisome.

’Yet I’ll dry my tears for your sake: 
  Why should I tease you, who cannot please you
Any more with the pains I take?’

MEMORY

I

I nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
  I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
    Alone and nothing said.

I shut the door to face the naked truth,
  I stood alone—­I faced the truth alone,
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth
    Till first and last were shown.

I took the perfect balances and weighed;
  No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise; 10
Weighed, found it wanting:  not a word I said,
    But silent made my choice.

None know the choice I made; I make it still. 
  None know the choice I made and broke my heart,
Breaking mine idol:  I have braced my will
    Once, chosen for once my part.

I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold,
  Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live. 
My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old,
    Grows old in which I grieve. 20

II

I have a room whereinto no one enters
  Save I myself alone: 
  There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.