I lay in silence, dead. A woman came
And laid a rose upon my breast, and said,
"May God be merciful." She spoke my name,
And added, "It is strange to think him dead.

"He loved me well enough, but 'twas his way
To speak it lightly." Then, beneath her breath;
"Besides"--I know what further she would say,
But then a footfall broke my dream of death.

Today the words are mine. I lay the rose
Upon her breast, and speak her name, and deem
It strange indeed that she is dead. God knows
I had more pleasure in the other dream.

###