Rosalind's Scroll

I LEFT thee last a child at heart
A woman scarce in years：

I come to thee a solemn corpse1

Which neither feels nor fears.

I have no breath to use in sighs；

They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes

To seal them safe from tears.

Look on me with thine own calm look：

I meet it calm as thou.

No look of thine can change this smile

Or break thy sinful vow2：

I tell thee that my poor scorn'd heart

Is of thine earththine eartha part：

It cannot vex3 thee now.

I have pray'd for thee with bursting sob4

When passion's course was free；

I have pray'd for thee with silent lips

In the anguish5 none could see；

They whisper'd oft 'She sleepeth soft'

But I only pray'd for thee.

Go to！ I pray for thee no more：

The corpse's tongue is still；

Its folded fingers point to heaven

But point there stiff and chill：

No farther wrong no farther woe6

Hath licence from the sin below

Its tranquil7 heart to thrill.

I charge thee by the living's prayer

And the dead's silentness

To wring8 from out thy soul a cry

Which God shall hear and bless！

Lest Heaven's own palm droop9 in my hand

And pale among the saints I stand

A saint companionless.