And over her bosom they crossed her hands;
“Come away,” they said,—“God understands!”
And then there was Silence;—and nothing there
But the Silence—and scents of eglantere,
And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary;
For they said, “As a lady should lie, lies she!”
And they held their breath as they left the room,
With a shudder to glance at its stillness and gloom.
But he—who loved her too well to dread
The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead,—
He lit his lamp, and took the key,
And turn’d it!—Alone again—he and she!
He and she; but she would not speak,
Though he kiss’d, in the old place, the quiet cheek;
He and she; yet she would not smile,
Though he call’d her the name that was fondest erewhile.
He and she; and she did not move
To any one passionate whisper of love.
Then he said, “Cold lips! and breast without breath!
Is there no voice?—no language of death