Classic Poem

Half knowing where she lay,
Her life lost in rest,
She stirred, and turned, and still not all awake,
Felt for him in the dark;
And as a baby's fingers make
Blindly their sure way to the breast,
Moved toward him,
Reached, and found not;
Only the place where once his head had lain.
But sleep was merciful, sleep had forgot
That she would never touch that cheek again.
With lids unlifted,
Smilingly she laid her head
On that empty pillow
And his name said;
Murmuring the content
Her dream had sent,
That waking would not bring through all the years.
Obliterate was her loss and the day's tears.