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Dinah Maria Mulock - "Until Her Death."
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I.

UNTIL her death!" the words read strange yet real, 
Like things afar off suddenly brought near:-- 
Will it be slow or speedy, full of fear, 
Or calm as a spent day of peace ideal?
II.

Will her brown locks lie white on coffin pillow? 
Will these her eyes, that sometime were called sweet, 
Close, after years of dried-up tears, or meet 
Death`s dust in midst of weeping? And that billow,-- 

III.

Her restless heart,--will it be stopped, still heaving? 
Or softly ebb `neath age`s placid breath? 
Will it be lonely, this mysterious death, 
Fit close unto her solitary living,-- 

IV.

A turning of her face to the wall, nought spoken, 
Exchanging this world`s light for heaven`s;--or will 
She part in pain, from warm love to the chill 
Unknown, pursued with cries of hearts half-broken? 

V.

With fond lips felt through the blind mists of dying, 
And close arms clung to in the struggle vain;-- 
Or, these all past, will death to her be gain, 
Unto her life`s long question God`s replying? 

VI.

No more. Within his hand, divine as tender, 
He holds the mystic measure of her days; 
And be they few or many, His the praise,-- 
In life or death her Keeper and Defender. 

VII.

Then, come He soon or late, she will not fear Him; 
Be her end lone or loveful, she`ll not grieve; 
For He whom she believed in--doth believe-- 
Will call her from the dust, and she will hear Him.
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