"Come closer," she said, "my sister,
For I can not see your face.
The day grows dim, and the shadows grim,
Are gathering on apace.
I am glad that the night is coming:
I am weary, and want to rest.
What! do you weep, that I fall asleep
Leaning upon your breast?
"Oh, Sister, I am so tired:
How tired you can not know.
And a jarring pain, in my weary brain,
Beats like a cruel blow.
I think it will all have vanished,
After I sleep awhile.
How sweetly I rest, lying here on your breast.
In the warmth of your loving smile.
"Such a beautiful dream, my sister,
I dreamed while I slept last night.
I thought he was true: and he came with you,
And kissed me in love's delight.
And he said--But I am so weary,
I will sleep ere I tell the rest."
But the sister wept, for the maiden slept
In the sleep of death, on her breast.
Shells by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Milwaukee: Hauser & Storey, 1873.
|Back to Poem Index|