Page:Poems Trask.djvu/36

Oh, they lifted him tenderly up
   From the river's cold bed,—
   The cruel, merciless bed!—
And a ray of moonlight pierced the clouds
   And touched his drowned head.
They lifted him up with the glittering gold
Of his soft hair dripping with wet and cold,
And his blue eyes open, and fixed, and wide,
And his cheek dead white in the chill salt tide;
And the sweet mouth pale as a thread of mist,—
Oh, God! the mouth I so oft had kissed!

Drowned! they said; and they tended me
   Like as they would a child,—
   A pitiful little child.
They smoothed my hair, and spoke kind words,
   And I looked up and smiled:
Smiled, because my heart was broke,—
Smiled, in thinking no other stroke
Could ever cause me a single pain;
But life is weary, and death is gain.
Under the poplar gray, by the sea,
They buried him—they will bury me.

Ah, it is gloomy, sometimes, and sad,
   Tiresome for me to wait,—
   In the darkness here to wait,
Before I shall enter in at the courts
   That are shut by a golden gate.
I shall see the glory glow of his hair,—
I shall hear his tender voice on the air;