5.

Wild weather; the whip of the sleet On the shuttered casement tapping; A shadow from face to feet, Like a shroud, my spirit wrapping,

Wild weather; and how is she Now the sting of the storm beats serried, Over the stone and the tree Of the grave where she is buried?

Wild weather; I cannot weep— But the skies weep on and worry; So I sleep, and dream in my sleep How I hear dim garments hurry....

Star weather and footsteps of stars; And I see white raiment glisten, Like the glow on the face of Mars When the stars to the angels listen.

And with me I see how she stands With lips high thought has weighted; With testifying hands, And eyes with purity mated.

Have I spoken and have I kneeled To the prayer I worship, I wonder?— What waits on her lips that are sealed? God-sealed and who shall sunder!

I sob, "Oh your stay was long! You are come, but your feet were laggard, With mansuetude and song For a heart your death has daggered."

And I lift wet eyes to her Unutterable with weeping, And beg for the loves that were, Now passed into Heaven's keeping....

I wake and a clock tolls three— And the night and the storm lie serried On the testament that's she, Closed, clasped, and forever buried.