Singing about my work, or flash on me
Looks bright with counsel.--Then they drove me mad
With talk of nameless tortures waiting you--
And I could save you! You would hear your love--
They knew you loved me, cruel men! And then--
Then came a dream; to say one little word,
One easy wicked word, we both might say,
And no one hear us, but the lictors round;
One tiny sprinkle of the incense grains,
And both, both free! And life had just begun--
Only three months--short months--your wedded wife
Only three months within the cottage there--
Hoping I bore your child. . . .
Ah! husband! Saviour! God! think gently of me!
I am forgiven! . . .
And then another dream;
A flash--so quick, I could not bear the blaze;
I could not see the smoke among the light--
To wander out through unknown lands, and lead
You by the hand through hamlet, port, and town,
On, on, until we died; and stand each day
To glory in you, as you preached and prayed
From rock and bourne-stone, with that voice, those words,
Mingled with fire and honey--you would wake,
Bend, save whole nations! would not that atone
For one short word?--ay, make it right, to save
You, you, to fight the battles of the Lord?
And so--and so--alas! you knew the rest!
You answered me. . . .
Ah cruel words! No! Blessed, godlike words.