And my pulse no longer beat,
Keeping time and bearing part
With the pulse of her great heart.

"So; swing open door, and shade
Take me; I am not afraid,
For the time will not be long;
Soon I shall have waxen strong--
Strong enough my own to win
From the grave it lies within."
And I entered. On her bier
Quiet lay the buried year;
I sat down where I could see
Life without and sunshine free,
Death within. And I between,
Waited my own heart to wean
From the shroud that shaded her
In the rock-hewn sepulchre--
Waited till the dead should say,
"Heart, be free of me this day"--
Waited with a patient will--
AND I WAIT BETWEEN THEM STILL.

I take the year back to my life and story,
The dead year, and say, "I will share in thy tomb.
'All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'
Cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom!
They reigned in their lifetime with sceptre and diadem,
But thou excellest them;
For life doth make thy grave her oratory,