Dear, my beloved, lying, oh, so still
As if asleep, upon thy lilied bier,
With eyelids resting like twin snowflakes chill
Upon the eyes where once the lovelight clear
Shone like a beacon set upon a hill―
Showing me how among the reefs to steer,
Guiding me, oh, so tenderly until
My wandering heart sank glad to anchor here
In thy dear heart! Oh, pure and sweet and true!
No foolish tears from my hot eyelids start;
I have no sobs; no wild outbursts are mine;
Only one sound shakes all this still place through:
The slow and awful beating of my heart,
Breaking to feel the answering beat of thine.
“He to Her” as it appears in Higginson’s When the Birds Go North Again (1898).