Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Rose HawthorneLathrop1073 Give Me Not Tears
D
Oh, shall you weep?
Ah, no! That were to have
Mistaken care;
But when you see my grave,
I pray you keep
Sunshine of heart that time doth lay me there,
Where veiling mists of dream guard endless sleep.
Though the young life we mourn
That, blooming, dies,—
Ere grief hath made forlorn
This other face,—
Still sadder are the eyes,
The cheeks more worn
Than show the dead, of those who seek love’s grace:
Death is the gentlest of the world’s replies.
D
From my life’s air,
And your eyes, newly wet
With tears for me,
Make my sky darker yet,—
Remember where
Your eyes in light laved all my destiny:
Weep not, weep not, since so much love was there!
My rapture came:
I gained from faith so true
More than I asked,—
For not the half I knew
My need might name,
Until I saw the soul your love unmasked:
Then crave not of the night my vanished flame.