Come not again! I dwell with you Above the realm of frost and dew, Of pain and fire, and growth to death. I dwell with you where never breath Is drawn, but fragrance vital flows From life to life, even as a rose Unseen pours sweetness through each vein, And from the air distils again. You are my rose unseen: we live Where each to other joy may give In ways untold, by means unknown And secret as the magnet-stone. For which of us, indeed, is dead? No more I lean to kiss your head,— The gold-red hair so thick upon it: Joy feels no more the touch that won it, When o’er my brow your pearl-cool palm In tenderness so childish, calm, Crept softly, once. Yet, see, my arm Is strong, and still my blood runs warm: I still can work and think and weep. But all this show of life I keep Is but the shadow of your shine, Flicker of your fire, husk of your vine; Therefore you are not dead, nor I, Who hear your laughter’s minstrelsy. Among the stars your feet are set; Your little feet are dancing yet Their rhythmic beat, as when on earth. So swift, so slight, are death and birth! Come not again, dear child. If thou By any chance couldst break that vow Of silence, at thy last hour made; If to this grim life unafraid Thou couldst return, and melt the frost Wherein thy bright limbs’ power was lost; Still would I whisper—since so fair The silent comradeship we share— Yes, whisper mid the unbidden rain Of tears: “Come not! Come not again!”
The Flown Soul
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