Poems (Greenwell)/The Kiss

by Dora Greenwell

THE KISS.

"She died young!"

"I think not so; her infelicity
Seemed to have years too many."
Webster.

   I come to thee from one
Thou knowest of,—I bear to thee her kiss:
"No bitter words;" she said, "when I am gone
   Give thou but only this."

   The mouth was wellnigh cold
I took it from, yet hath it power to bless;
The lips that sent it never moved of old
   Except in tenderness;

   And ere they ceased to stir
They trembled, as if then they strove to frame
A word,—the only one 'twixt heaven and her,—
   Methought it was thy name.

   They wore unto the last
A calm, sad, twilight smile, from patience won;
Her face had light on it that was not cast
   From joy's long-sunken sun.

   She waited for a word
Of Love to stay on; Hope did long endure;
She waited long on Time, for she had heard
   His spells, though slow, were sure.

   She waited; but her stroke
Was heavier than her groaning; one by one
All failed her: Grief was strongest, so it broke
   Each thing it leaned upon.

   She waited long on God,
And He forsook not; through the gloomy vale
She leant upon His staff, until His rod
   Brake forth in blossoms pale.

   Then did her spirit bless
The gracious token; then she saw the rife
Salt-crusted standing pools of bitterness
   Spring up to wells of life.

   And Peace, a friend for years
Estranged, stood by her on her dying bed:
See that thou weep not o'er her grave, her tears
   Have long ago been shed.

   She grieves not for the mould:
A heavier load lay long upon her breast
Than Earth, which hath been to her far more cold
   In waking than in rest!