Service

If I could only serve him,
How sweet this life would be.
Last night I dreamed my darling,
Alive, returned to me.

I brought him from the cupboard
The things he liked to eat,—
The little piece of honey,
The rye bread and the meat.

I sang the song he asked for
The night he went away.
How was it, when I loved him,
I could have said him nay!

I took the time to please him,
With a hand upon his brow.
Amid the awful leisure
There was no hurry now.

How strange I once denied him
What took so little while.
A kiss would seem so simple,
So slight a thing a smile.

With pleased sweet looks of wonder
He took what I could give,—
Such words as we deny them
Only because they live.

The pale light of the morning
Shone in upon the wall.
Come back to me, my darling,
And I will give you all.

Anna Hempstead Branch