I would have soothed her on my breast
But that she needs must go.
The dead must journey without rest
Whether they will or no.
But I had kept for love of her
The cloak she wore, the shoes,
And every day I touched the things
She had been wont to use.
All night the dead must hurry on,
They may not ever sleep.
And so I gave away her cloak
That I was fain to keep.
The second time she sought me out
Her eyes were full of need.
"If thou wouldst give away my shoes
Perchance I would not bleed."
I cried to her aloud, "My child,
They are all I have to keep,
To lay my hand upon and touch
At night before I sleep.
"The earth shall keep the body I bore,
And Heaven thy soul. I may not choose.
Let be—I ask a little thing,
That I should keep thy shoes.
"But I will give away my own.
Lord, Lord, wilt Thou not see?
Let Thou her road to Paradise
This way be eased by me."
All night alone by brier and stone
I ran that road unshod,
So I might know instead of her
The pains that lead to God.
When next she came for a brief space
She tarried at my side,
So happy was she in that place,
So glad that she had died.
"The last night that I roamed," she said,
"Some one had gone before.
I followed where those feet had led,
And found it rough no more.