After Death
Christina Rossetti
1830 to 1894
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The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept
strewn with rushes, rosemary and may
Lay thick upon bed on which I lay,
Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept.
He leaned above me, thinking that I slept
could not hear him; but I heard him say,
‘Poor child, poor child’: and as he turned away
Came deep silence, and I knew he wept.
He did touch the shroud, or raise the fold
That hid face, or take my hand in his,
Or ruffle smooth pillows for my head:
He did not love living; but once dead
He pitied me; and very it is
To know he still is warm though am cold.
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