I DIED; they wrapped me in a shroud
With hollow mourning, far too loud
And sighs that were but empty sound
And laid me low within the ground
I felt her tears through all the rest;
Past sheet and shroud they reached my breast;
They warmed to life the frozen clay
And I began to smile and say:
At last thou lov'st me, Helena!
I rose up in the dead of night;
I sought her window;—'t was alight
A pebble clattered 'gainst the pane,—
"Who's there? the wind and falling rain?"
"Ah! no; but one thy tears have led
To leave his chill and narrow bed
To warm himself before thy breath;
Who for thy sake has conquered death
Arise, and love me, Helena!"
She opened the door, she drew me in
Her mouth was pale, her cheek was thin;
Her eyes were dim; its length unrolled
Fell loosely down her hair of gold
My presence wrought her grief's eclipse;
She pressed her lips upon my lips
She held me fast in her embrace
Her hands went wandering o'er my face:
At last thou lov'st me, Helena!
The days are dark, the days are cold
And heavy lies the churchyard mould
But ever, at the deep of night
Their faith the dead and living plight
Who would not die if certain bliss
Could be foreknown? and such as this
No life—away! the hour is nigh
With heart on fire she waits my cry:
Arise, and love me, Helena!