Classic Poem

Through the dim Court of Ghosts there entered one
Seeking his dead—his wife and little son.
Its gates were closed to all yet robed with life,
But, by the yearning love he bore his wife,
He had won grace, alone of living men,
To enter there, and bring her back again.

Close by the door, with life-remembering eyes,
He saw her sit—her babe held, motherwise,
Clasped to her breast, as if her sheltering arm
Even in heaven, would ward some unknown harm;
But in her face a glad surprise was spread—
The eternal answer of the happy dead.

She met his eyes—then, with a cry that rang
Beyond the bars of death, nestling she sprang
Into his arms, and held her baby there
Against his cheek, while all her cloudy hair
Enveloped them. “Dear heart! and you are come!”
She whispered, and then, trembling, rested dumb.

He drew her toward the gate of Paradise
Where stood the watcher with the strange, sad eyes
Who, as they would have passed, put forth his hand:
“But two may leave,” he said; “'tis the command.
Or wife or babe—choose thou between the twain;
One, thou mayest take; the other must remain.”

The husband paused—then looked at her and smiled:
“She goes with me,” he said: “keep thou the child.”
With gentle hands he sought to loose her hold,
But she, with frightened eyes, did closely fold
The baby to her bosom, crying, “Nay!
I cannot! If he stays, I too must stay!”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “more than sweetheart—wife!
Return with me to that dear land of life—
Dear through thee only. See! I am alone;
The angels all will guard our little son
Till we return—but I have only thee!”
With tear-brimmed eyes she cried: “Then stay with me!

“I need thee so! But oh, my loved one, now
Our little baby needs me more than thou.
Is there a voice in all the angel throng
That he would know, to sing his slumber song?
A breast like mine where he can lay his head?
Would any angel smooth, as I, his bed?”

“But, sweetheart, see,” he pled; “he will not know—
He is so young; and God will watch him grow
In heaven's long gladness, till we come again—”
“Ah, no,” she wept; “he might not know me then.
I cannot go—no angel there above
Can love my baby with his mother's love!

“I cannot go—but stay thou here with me!”
The sad-eyed warder spoke: “That may not be;
He hath not passed through death. The time is sped
That he may tarry, living, with the dead.
Give, then, thy answer straightway, yea or nay—
Wilt thou return with him, or wilt thou stay?”

Closely around his neck her arms did twine.
“Sweetheart,” she sobbed, “because the child is thine
I love him so, thus doubly loving thee.
If I could leave him, dear, I should not be
The wife thou lovest. But all my being cries
To be with thee, and every day, my eyes

Will follow thee, and watch for thee. By night
In thy great loneliness, my heart will fight
Against itself, to leave the babe and creep
Into thy arms, and there to fall asleep;
But ah, dear heart! the baby needs me more—
So, hold me close. … Now! ere he shut the door …

“Kiss me again … again. … My eyes are dim …
Oh, baby—clasp me—hold me close—for him!”