Menken, Adah Isaacs
|DRIFTS THAT BAR MY DOOR.|
Oh, let me sleep.
I close my weary eyes to think--to dream.
Is this what dreams are woven of?
I stand on the brink of a precipice, with my shivering
child strained to my bare bosom.
A yawning chasm lies below. My trembling feet are on
I hear again his voice; but he reacheth not out his hand
to save me.
Why can I not move my lips to pray?
They are cold.
My soul is dumb, too.
Death hath conquered!
I feel his icy fingers moving slowly along my heart
How cold and stiff!
The ghosts of my dead hopes are closing around me.
They stifle me.
They whisper that Eros has come back to me.
But I only see a skeleton wrapped in blood-stained cerements71There are no lips to kiss me back to life.
O ghosts of Love, move back--give me air!
Ye smell of the dusty grave.
Ye have pressed your cold hands upon my eyes until
they are eclipsed.
The lamp has burnt out.
O angels! be quick! Sweep the drifts away!--unbar
Oh, light! light!