The thought of night consoled him. To his vision Natalia was dead only in false death, The sleeping treason of some false misprision, Some silent mystery of shortened breath, Not dead in truth for ever and to him, Or to that other life his dream foretold:— Her murderers these. And in his heart the whim Rose he should draw her from her cincture cold, And set his lips upon her lips once more, And free her spirit thus from its dull trance, And all should be between them as before, Only more dear for her deliverance. And darkly there he smiled as, their work done, The mourners left him with their dead alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD SERGEANT by BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 17. ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY by MARK AKENSIDE THE BLACK MOUSQUETAIRE; A LEGEND OF FRANCE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM UPON MY DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND HIS GOING INTO ENGLAND, 1661 by ANNE BRADSTREET THE TRAMPS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON by ROBERT BURNS |