Classic Poem

Thou hadst thy will.
How weary sounds the rain!
The firelight wanders in the window-pane.
Thou art still.

Let me a space,
Now that the daylight dies,
Lie back against thee and with upward eyes
Love thy face.

Forgive my fear,
But—darling—hold me fast!
A little while the heartache will be past.
Patience, dear.

Give me thy hands
And bending closely o'er
Lay thy two lips to mine for evermore.
Death commands.