Poems (Bell)/My Dear, Dead Love

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MY DEAR, DEAD LOVE.
O dearest, sweetest, best! My own first love!Look down with tender Pitying eyes from up Above!I am so tired with this Weary, endless strife.The days and days of toil Of this—called life!This life—a living death, With agony in every breath.Stretch out thy hand and touch me, You from that far land!
I stretch my arms about me But they empty fall,Darkness is all around Me, like a pall!Send me some word, Some message, O my love,One little message Only from Above!I speak, you answer not. So far away!I call, you cannot hear One word I say,The only time you ever Turned unwilling ear;The only time I ever called You would not hear!
Yes; I am weary, darling With the strife.And long so much to hear you say: "My love, my life, my wife!" ​Oh! tell me, will you meet. Me soon, my own?Thine be the hand to guide Me when I come—Am called to meet you In (once more) our "home"?O call me soon, O come And take me "home" to rest,My own true love, O sweetest, dearest, best!

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