Thekla at Her Lover's Grave

Thy voice was in my soul! it call’d me on;
O my lost friend! thy voice was in my soul.
From the cold, faded world whence thou art gone,
To hear no more life’s troubled billows roll,
I come! I come!

Now speak to me again! we loved so well--
We loved!--oh! still, I know that still we love!
I have left all things with thy dust to dwell,
Through these dim aisles in dreams of thee to rove:
This is my home!

Speak to me in the thrilling minster’s gloom!
Speak! thou hast died, and sent me no farewell!
I will not shrink--oh! mighty is the tomb,
But one thing mightier, which it cannot quell--
This woman’s heart!

This lone, full, fragile heart!--the strong alone
In love and grief--of both the burning shrine!
Thou, my soul’s friend! with grief hast surely done,
But with the love which made thy spirit mine,
Say, couldst thou part?

I hear the rustling banners; and I hear
The wind’s low singing through the fretted stone.
I hear not thee; and yet I feel thee near--
What is this bound that keeps thee from thine own?
Breathe it away.

I wait thee--I adjure thee! Hast thou known
How I have loved thee? couldst thou dream it all?
Am I not here, with night and death alone,
And fearing not? And hath my spirit’s call
O’er thine no sway?

Thou canst not come! or thus I should not weep!
Thy love is deathless--but no longer free!
Soon would its wing triumphantly o’ersweep
The viewless barrier, if such power might be,
Soon, soon, and fast!

But I shall come to thee! our souls’ deep dreams,
Our young affections, have not gush’d in vain;
Soon in one tide shall blend the sever’d streams,
The worn heart break its bonds--and death and pain
Be with the past!