Which?

The wind was on the forest,
And silence on the wold;
And darkness on the waters,
And heaven was starry cold;
When Sleep, with all her magic,
Made me this thing behold:

This side, an iron woodland;
That side, an iron waste;
Between which rose a tower,
Wherein a wan light paced,
A light, or phantom woman
Ice-eyed and icy-faced.

And through the iron tower
Of silence and of night,
My Soul and I went only,
My Soul, whose face was white,
Whose one hand signed me listen,
One bore a taper-light.

For, lo! a voice behind me
Kept sighing in my ear
The dreams my mind accepted,
My heart refused to hear--
Of one I loved and loved not,
Whose spirit now was near,

And, lo! a voice before me
Kept calling constantly
The hopes my heart accepted,
My mind refused to see--
Of one I loved and loved not,
Whose spirit spake to me.

This way the one would bid me;
This way the other saith:--
Sweet is the voice behind me
Of Life that followeth;
And sweet the voice before me
Of Life whose name is Death.