Rampolli - A Year's Diary of an Old Soul
Home - George MacDonald - Rampolli - A Year's Diary of an Old SoulLXIV.
Night lay upon mine eyelids;
Upon my mouth lay lead; With rigid brain and bosom,
I lay among the dead.
How long it was I know not
That sleep oblivion gave; I wakened up, and, listening,
Heard a knocking at my grave.
"Tis time to rise up, Henry!
The eternal day draws on; The dead are all arisen--
The eternal joy's begun."
"My love, I cannot raise me;
For I have lost my sight; My eyes with bitter weeping
They are extinguished quite."
"From thy dear eyelids, Henry,
I'll kiss the night away; Thou shalt behold the angels,
And Heaven's superb display."
"My love, I cannot raise me;
Still bleeds my bosom gored, Where thou heart-deep didst stab me
With a keen-pointed word."
"Soft I will lay it, Henry,
My hand soft on thy heart; And that will stop its bleeding
And soothe at once the smart."
"My love, I cannot raise me--
My head is bleeding too; When thou wast stolen from me
I shot it through and through!"
"I with my tresses, Henry,
Will stop the fountain red; Press back again the blood-stream,
And heal thy wounded head."
She begged so sweetly, dearly,
I could no more say no; I tried, I strove to raise me,
And to my darling go.
Then the wounds again burst open;
With torrent force outbrake From head and breast the blood-stream,
And, lo, I came awake!
DIE HEIMKEHR.