Poem by Dora Greenwell

The Kiss

	"She died young!"

	"I think not so; her infelicity
	Seemed to have years too many."

                             Webster.

   I come to thee from one
Thou knowest of,—I bear to thee her kiss:
"No bitter words;" she said, "when I am gone
   Give thou but only this."

   The mouth was wellnigh cold
I took it from, yet hath it power to bless;
The lips that sent it never moved of old
   Except in tenderness;

   And ere they ceased to stir
They trembled, as if then they strove to frame
A word,—the only one 'twixt heaven and her,—
   Methought it was thy name.

   They wore unto the last
A calm, sad, twilight smile, from patience won;
Her face had light on it that was not cast
   From joy's long-sunken sun.

   She waited for a word
Of Love to stay on; Hope did long endure;
She waited long on Time, for she had heard
   His spells, though slow, were sure.

   She waited; but her stroke
Was heavier than her groaning; one by one
All failed her: Grief was strongest, so it broke
   Each thing it leaned upon.

   She waited long on God,
And He forsook not; through the gloomy vale
She leant upon His staff, until His rod
   Brake forth in blossoms pale.

   Then did her spirit bless
The gracious token; then she saw the rife
Salt-crusted standing pools of bitterness
   Spring up to wells of life.

   And Peace, a friend for years
Estranged, stood by her on her dying bed:
See that thou weep not o'er her grave, her tears
   Have long ago been shed.

   She grieves not for the mould:
A heavier load lay long upon her breast
Than Earth, which hath been to her far more cold
   In waking than in rest!

1. Seeking
2. God's Singer
3. When the Night and Morning Meet
4. Faint Yet Pursuing
5. To Christina Rossetti

Edith Nesbit The Kiss ("The snow is white on wood and wold")

Print

1586 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version