Service

If I could only serve him, How sweet this life would be. Last night I dreamed my darling, Alive, returned to me.

I brought him from the cupboard The things he liked to eat,— The little piece of honey, The rye bread and the meat.

I sang the song he asked for The night he went away. How was it, when I loved him, I could have said him nay!

I took the time to please him, With a hand upon his brow. Amid the awful leisure There was no hurry now.

How strange I once denied him What took so little while. A kiss would seem so simple, So slight a thing a smile.

With pleased sweet looks of wonder He took what I could give,— Such words as we deny them Only because they live.

The pale light of the morning Shone in upon the wall. Come back to me, my darling, And I will give you all.