The Haunted Hour Part 21

Will he come back again or is he dead?

Or is he sleeping, my scarf round his head?

Or did they strangle him as he lay there, With the long scarlet scarf I used to wear?

Only I pray thee, Lord, let him come here; Both his soul and his body to me are most dear.

Dear Lord, that loves me, I wait to receive Either body or spirit this wild Christmas-eve.

_Through the floor shot up a lily red,_ _With a patch of earth from the land of the dead,_ _For he was strong in the land of the dead._

What matter that his cheeks were pale, His kind kiss'd lips all gray?

"O love Louise, have you waited long?"

"O my Lord Arthur, yea."

What if his hair that brush'd her cheek Was stiff with frozen rime?

His eyes were grown quite blue again.

As in the happy time.

"O, love Louise, this is the key Of the happy golden land!

O, sisters, cross the bridge with me, My eyes are full of sand, What matter that I cannot see, If ye take me by the hand?"

_And ever the great bell overhead,_ _And the tumbling sea mourned for the dead;_ _For their song ceased, and they were dead._

THE GHOST'S PEt.i.tION: CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI

"There's a footstep coming; look out and see."-- "The leaves are falling, the wind is calling; No one cometh across the lea."--

"There's a footstep coming; O sister, look."-- "The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes; No one cometh across the brook."--

"But he promised that he would come: To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow, He must keep his word, and must come home.

"For he promised that he would come; His word was given; from earth to heaven, He must keep his word, and must come home.

"Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane; You can slumber, who need not number Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.

"I shall sit here awhile and watch; Listening, hoping for one hand groping, In deep shadow, to find the latch."

After the dark and before the light, One lay sleeping, and one sat weeping, Who had watched and wept the weary night.

After the night and before the day, One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping-- Watching, weeping for one away.

There came a footstep climbing the stair, Some one standing out on the landing Shook the door like a puff of air.--

Shook the door and in he pa.s.sed.

Did he enter? In the room center Stood her husband; the door shut fast.

"O Robin, but you are cold-- Chilled with the night-dew; so lily white you Look like a stray lamb from our fold.

"O Robin, but you are late: Come and sit near me--sit here and cheer me."-- (Blue the flame burnt in the grate.)

"Lay not down your head on my breast: I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you In the shelter that you love best.

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

"We are trees that 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 as I lie alone.

"I could rest if you would not cry, But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping-- 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?

"Oh, 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.

"Oh, my husband of flesh and blood, For whom my mother I left, and brother, And all I had, accounting it good,

"What do you do there, under the ground, 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, 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?"

HE AND SHE: SIR EDWIN ARNOLD

"She is dead!" they said to him; "come away; Kiss her and leave her,--thy love is clay!"

They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair; On her forehead of stone they laid it fair.

Over her eyes that gazed too much They drew the lids with a gentle touch;

With a tender touch they closed up well The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell;

Above her brows and beautiful face They tied her veil and her marriage lace,

And drew on her white feet her white-silk shoes Which were the whitest no eye could choose,--

And over her bosom they crossed her hands.

"Come away," they said, "G.o.d understands."