I.
In death-sheets lieth Rosalind
       &nbspAs white and still as they;
And the old nurse that watched her bed
       &nbspRose up with "Well-a-day!"
And oped the casement to let in
The sun, and that sweet doubtful din
Which droppeth from the grass and bough
Sans wind and bird, none knoweth how—
       &nbspTo cheer her as she lay.

To Be Contee................


II.
The old nurse started when she saw
       &nbspHer sudden look of woe:
But the quick wan tremblings round her mouth
       &nbspIn a meek smile did go,
And calm she said, "When I am dead,
       &nbspDear nurse it shall be so.

III.
"Till then, shut out those sights and sounds,
       &nbspAnd pray God pardon me
That I without this pain no more
       &nbspHis blessed works can see!
And lean beside me, loving nurse,
That thou mayst hear, ere I am worse,
       &nbspWhat thy last love should be."

IV.
The loving nurse leant over her,
       &nbspAs white she lay beneath;
The old eyes searching, dim with life,
       &nbspThe young ones dim with death,
To read their look if sound forsook
       &nbspThe trying, trembling breath.

V.
"When all this feeble breath is done,
       &nbspAnd I on bier am laid,
My tresses smoothed for never a feast,
       &nbspMy body in shroud arrayed,
Uplift each palm in a saintly calm,
       &nbspAs if that still I prayed.

VI.
"And heap beneath mine head the flowers
       &nbspYou stoop so low to pull,
The little white flowers from the wood
       &nbspWhich grow there in the cool,
Which he and I, in childhood's games,
Went plucking, knowing not their names,
       &nbspAnd filled thine apron full.
VII.
"Weep not! I weep not. Death is strong,
       &nbspThe eyes of Death are dry!
But lay this scroll upon my breast
       &nbspWhen hushed its heavings lie,
And wait awhile for the corpse's smile
       &nbspWhich shineth presently.

VIII.
"And when it shineth, straightway call
       &nbspThy youngest children dear,
And bid them gently carry me
       &nbspAll barefaced on the bier;
But bid them pass my kirkyard grass
       &nbspThat waveth long anear.

IX.
"And up the bank where I used to sit
       &nbspAnd dream what life would be,
Along the brook with its sunny look
       &nbspAkin to living glee,—
O'er the windy hill, through the forest still,
       &nbspLet them gently carry me.

X.
"And through the piny forest still,
       &nbspAnd down the open moorland
Round where the sea beats mistily
       &nbspAnd blindly on the foreland;
And let them chant that hymn I know,
Bearing me soft, bearing me slow,
       &nbspTo the ancient hall of Courland.
XI.
"And when withal they near the hall,
       &nbspIn silence let them lay
My bier before the bolted door,
       &nbspAnd leave it for a day:
For I have vowed, though I am proud,
To go there as a guest in shroud,
       &nbspAnd not be turned away."

XII.
The old nurse looked within her eyes
       &nbspWhose mutual look was gone;
The old nurse stooped upon her mouth,
       &nbspWhose answering voice was done;
And nought she heard, till a little bird
       &nbspUpon the casement's woodbine swinging
Broke out into a loud sweet singing
       &nbspFor joy o' the summer sun:
"Alack! alack!"—she watched no more,
       &nbspWith head on knee she wailèd sore,
And the little bird sang o'er and o'er
       &nbspFor joy o' the summer sun.