Poems (Bibesco)/XX

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XX
Sometimes you say to me "When I am dead———"     And then I smile ———As if you were just civil and well bred     And imbecile;And saying something like "the pleasure's mine———"Or "Yes, I think to-morrow will be fine." But I last night, I dreamt that you were dead,     I did not weep;True tears, alas! will always stay unshed,     They are too deepTo reach the smooth wet surface of the eye—That shallow mirror, where all sorrows die.
It seemed to me I felt the frozen day     When I would wake,With pain, itself benumbed, too tired to flay;     Nor could I takeA warm and living hour within my hands—Despair itself had ceased to make demands. And now your arms are round me once again;     And one small tear ​Marks the forgotten lesson of my pain.     I cannot hearThe foolish rumblings of mortality;For you, my love, are Heaven and Hell to me.
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