My father lived a little while, _315 But all might see that he was dying, He smiled with such a woeful smile! When he was in the churchyard lying Among the worms, we grew quite poor, So that no one would give us bread: _320 My mother looked at me, and said Faint words of cheer, which only meant That she could die and be content; So I went forth from the same church door To another husband's bed. _325 And this was he who died at last, When weeks and months and years had passed, Through which I firmly did fulfil My duties, a devoted wife, With the stern step of vanquished will, _330 Walking beneath the night of life, Whose hours extinguished, like slow rain Falling for ever, pain by pain, The very hope of death's dear rest; Which, since the heart within my breast _335 Of natural life was dispossessed, Its strange sustainer there had been. When flowers were dead, and grass was green Upon my mother's grave,--that mother Whom to outlive, and cheer, and make _340 My wan eyes glitter for her sake, Was my vowed task, the single care Which once gave life to my despair,-- When she was a thing that did not stir And the crawling worms were cradling her _345 To a sleep more deep and so more sweet Than a baby's rocked on its nurse's knee, I lived: a living pulse then beat Beneath my heart that awakened me. What was this pulse so warm and free? _350 Alas! I knew it could not be My own dull blood: 'twas like a thought Of liquid love, that spread and wrought Under my bosom and in my brain, And crept with the blood through every vein; _355 And hour by hour, day after day, The wonder could not charm away, But laid in sleep, my wakeful pain, Until I knew it was a child, And then I wept. For long, long years _360 These frozen eyes had shed no tears: But now--'twas the season fair and mild When April has wept itself to May: I sate through the sweet sunny day By my window bowered round with leaves, _365 And down my cheeks the quick tears fell Like twinkling rain-drops from the eaves, When warm spring showers are passing o'er. O Helen, none can ever tell The joy it was to weep once more! _370