Which?

The wind was on the forest, And silence on the wold; And darkness on the waters, And heaven was starry cold; When Sleep, with all her magic, Made me this thing behold:

This side, an iron woodland; That side, an iron waste; Between which rose a tower, Wherein a wan light paced, A light, or phantom woman Ice-eyed and icy-faced.

And through the iron tower Of silence and of night, My Soul and I went only, My Soul, whose face was white, Whose one hand signed me listen, One bore a taper-light.

For, lo! a voice behind me Kept sighing in my ear The dreams my mind accepted, My heart refused to hear-- Of one I loved and loved not, Whose spirit now was near,

And, lo! a voice before me Kept calling constantly The hopes my heart accepted, My mind refused to see-- Of one I loved and loved not, Whose spirit spake to me.

This way the one would bid me; This way the other saith:-- Sweet is the voice behind me Of Life that followeth; And sweet the voice before me Of Life whose name is Death.