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 clogging my weak knees.

Sometimes I can nor weep nor pray,
  But am half stupefied: 
And then all those who see me say
  Mine eyes are opened wide 40
And that my wits seem gone away—­
  Ah, would that I had died!

Would I could die and be at peace,
  Or living could forget! 
My grief nor grows nor doth decrease,
  But ever is:—­and yet
Methinks, now, that all this shall cease
  Before the sun shall set.

REPINING

(Art and Poetry [The Germ, No. 3], March 1850)

She sat alway thro’ the long day
Spinning the weary thread away;
And ever said in undertone: 
‘Come, that I be no more alone.’

From early dawn to set of sun
Working, her task was still undone;
And the long thread seemed to increase
Even while she spun and did not cease. 
She heard the gentle turtle-dove
Tell to its mate a tale of love; 10
She saw the glancing swallows fly,
Ever a social company;
She knew each bird upon its nest
Had cheering songs to bring it rest;
None lived alone save only she;—­
The wheel went round more wearily;
She wept and said in undertone: 
‘Come, that I be no more alone.’

Day followed day, and still she sighed
For love, and was not satisfied; 20
Until one night, when the moonlight
Turned all the trees to silver white,
She heard, what ne’er she heard before,
A steady hand undo the door. 
The nightingale since set of sun
Her throbbing music had not done,
And she had listened silently;
But now the wind had changed, and she
Heard the sweet song no more, but heard
Beside her bed a whispered word:  30
’Damsel, rise up; be not afraid;
For I am come at last,’ it said.

She trembled, tho’ the voice was mild;
She trembled like a frightened child;—­
Till she looked up, and then she saw
The unknown speaker without awe. 
He seemed a fair young man, his eyes
Beaming with serious charities;
His cheek was white but hardly pale;
And a dim glory like a veil 40
Hovered about his head, and shone
Thro’ the whole room till night was gone.