For pain is common, and grief, and loss;
And many come home by Weeping Cross.
Why do I tell you this, my dear?
Sorrow is gone now you are here.
You and I, we sit in the light,
And fled is the horror of yesternight.
The time went on, and I saw one day
My body was bent and my hair was gray.
But the boys and girls a-whispering
Sweet tales in the sweet light of the spring,
Never paused in the tales they told
To say, “He is dead and she is old.”
There’s a place in the churchyard where, I thought,
Long since my lover had been brought;
It had sunk with years from a high green mound
To a level no stranger would have found;
But I—I always knew the spot;
How could I miss it, know it not?
Darling, darling, draw me near,
For I cannot shake off the dread and fear.