The black truth, with a fiery dart, Went hurtling through my thought, When I beheld her brought Whence she with life did not depart. Her beauty by degrees Sank, sharpened from disease: The heavy sinking at her heart Sucked hollows in her cheek, And made her eyelids weak, Though oft they opened wide with sudden start. The Deathly Power in silence drew My Lady's life away. I watched, dumb for dismay, The shock of thrills that quivered through Her wasted frame, and shook The meaning in her look, As near, more near, the moment grew. O horrible suspense! O giddy impotence! I saw her features lax, and change their hue. Her gaze, grown large with fate, was cast Where my mute agonies Made sadder her sad eyes: Her breath caught with short plucks and fast, Then one hot choking strain; She never breathed again. I had the look which was her last: Her love, when breath was gone, One moment lingering shone, Then slowly closed, and hope for ever passed. A dreadful tremour ran through space When first the mournful toll Rang for My Lady's soul. The shining world was hell; her grace Only the flattering gleam And mockery of a dream: Oblivion struck me like a mace, And as a tree that's hewn I dropped, in a dead swoon, And lay a long time cold upon my face. Earth had one quarter turned before My miserable fate Pressed down with its whole weight. My sense came back; and shivering o'er I felt a pain to bear The sun's keen cruel glare, Which shone not warm as heretofore; And never more its rays Will satisfy my gaze: No more; no more; O, never any more. II. DAY DREAM. What art thou whispering lowly to thy babe, O wan girl-mother, with Madonna lids Downcast? Why pressest thou so close his pale Geranium cheek to thy yet whiter breast? Ah, doubtless sweet; to feel him draw the stream That fills with strength his lily limbs! And laughs Thine own heart with his deeply dimpled laughter, Answering straight thy dainty finger's touch? And understandeth he that murmurous moan, Wherewith thou hushest, patting him to rest? What visions charm thy gaze, now resting wide In settled sweet content? Beholdest thou Thy babe, now sprung a man, walk sunhazed slopes With one lovelier than visions; lovely as The truth, O Love, when thou dost smile on me? Or seest thou him still greater grown in might, And stout of action marching on to reach That changeful coloured flag, whose waving crests The glittering heights of fame, for which men pant; Unmindful there what tempests rage and sweep; Alas; what dream has made that watery veil Hide thine eye's light from mine; even as a mist Passing between me and a harvest moon! And whence this shadowy wall that baulks my gaze? Why fadest thou, thyself, in mist, O Love? Whither hath fled thy babe--and where art thou?-- Where am I?--Is it life--a dream--or death?