Августа Вебстер (Augusta Webster)

Passing Away

    Passing away from you, love,
And you look so sad, sitting there by my bed,
And I know you are thinking "How will it be?
“She is the meaning of living to me,
    “How can I live with her dead?”

    Passing away from you, love,
Growing weaker and weaker every day:
Soon you will sit near me, ah! so alone,
For I shall not turn to you, I your own,
    I shall not heed what you say.

    Passing away from you, love,
It will not be long now before the last:
We are thinking about it, feign as we will,
While I seem to sleep and you are so still,
    Our clasped hands holding fast.

    One same thought in our minds.
How strangely lone you will feel in your home
When I have gone out of your waking days
And you dream of our life in a sorrowful maze
    When the desolate evenings come.

    But, love, it cannot be lost,
The life that is ours, that I leave to you yours,
As something far more than a memory;
We know it something too real to die,
    It is love, and love endures.

    It will follow you into the new;
You cannot part it from you, chance what will,
You could not live as if I had not been;
So to you long hence when my grave is green,
    Love, I must be somewhat still.

    Passing away from you, love,
And the weakness and weariness grow into pain,
So that the last would seem dropping asleep
If it were not for you. But one rests in God's keep,
    So I think you will find me again.