Echo

Come to me in the silence of the night;
     Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
     As sunlight on a stream;
          Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love in finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
     Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
     Where thirsty longing eyes
          Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
     My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
     Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
          Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, now long ago!

When I Am Dead

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Uphill

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
   Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
   From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
   A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
   You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
   Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
   They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
   Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
   Yea, beds for all who come.