At the Last

Come once, just once, dear love, when I am dead — Ah, God! I would it were this hour, tonight — And look your last upon the frozen face That was to you a summer's brief delight.

The silent lips will not entreat you then, Nor the eyes vex you with unwelcome tears; The low, sad voice will utter no complaint, Nor the heart tremble with its restless fears.

I shall he still — you will forgive me then For all that I have been, or failed to be: Say, as you look, "Poor heart, she loved me well, No other love will be so true to me"

Then bend and kiss the lips that will not speak — One little kiss for all the dear, dead days — Say once, "God rest her soul!" then go in peace, No haunting ghost shall meet you in your ways.