And orbs that seemed the wells of woe.
She shrieked and veiled her eyes. “No, no!
“I am not dead! I ache with life.
An earthly passion’s hopeless strife
“Still tortures me.” “Yet thou art dead,”
The voice with sad insistence said.
“But love and sorrow and regret
All die with death. I feel them yet.”
“God bade thee live, and only He
Can say when thou shalt cease to be.”
“But I was sin-sick, sad, alone—
I thought by death I could atone,
“And died that Christ might show me how.”
“Christ bore His burden, why not thou?”
“Oh! lead me to His holy feet
And let my penance be complete.”
“What! thinkest thou to find that path—
Thou who hast tempted Heaven’s wrath
“By thy rash deed? Nay, nay, not so,
’Tis but perfected spirits go