Songs of Two

It is a poetry book. Last night I dreamed this dream: That I was dead; And as I slept, forgot of man and God, That other dreamless sleep of rest, I heard a footstep on the sod, As of one passing overhead, And lo, thou, Dear, didst touch me on the breast, Saying: 'What shall I write against thy name That men should see?' Then quick the answer came, 'I was beloved of thee'. Dear Giver of Thyself when at thy side, I see the path beyond divide, Where we must walk alone a little space, I say: 'Now am I strong indeed To wait with only memory awhile, Content, until I see thy face', Yet turn, as one in sorest need, To ask once more thy giving grace, So, at the last Of all our partings, when the night Has hidden from my failing sight The comfort of thy smile, My hand shall seek thine own to hold it fast; Nor wilt thou think for this the heart ingrate, Less glad for all its past, Less strong to bear the utmost of its fate.