Aline Kilmer

A wind rose in the night, (She had always feared it so!) Sorrow plucked at my heart And I could not help but go.

Softly I went and stood By her door at the end of the hall. Dazed with grief I watched The candles flaring and tall.

The wind was wailing aloud: I thought how she would have cried For my warm familiar arms And the sense of me by her side.

The candles flickered and leapt, The shadows jumped on the wall. She lay before me small and still And did not care at all.

When you had been dead a week I entered a shining shop, And there in a neat pink row Lay little dolls made of soap.

And I thought, "I will take one home. How she will laugh to see it ! How it will bob in her bath And slip through her dripping fingers !"

Only a moment I smiled. Only a moment I dreamed it. Then my heart stood still with pain And I went out into the darkness.

I shall not be afraid any more. Either by night or day ; What would it profit me to be afraid With you away?

Now I am brave. In the dark night alone All through the house I go, Locking the doors and making windows fast When sharp winds blow.

For there is only sorrow in my heart ; There is no room for fear. But how I wish I were afraid again, My dear, my dear!

I do not know which is worse when you are away: Long grey days with the lisping sound of the rain

And then when the lilac dusk is beginning to fall The thought that perhaps you may never come back again ;

Or days when the world is a shimmer of blue and gold, Sparkling newly all in the dear spring weather,

When with a heart that is torn apart by pain I walk alone in ways that we went together.

The sea that I watch from my window Is grey and white; I see it toss in the darkness All the night.

My soul swoops down to sorrow As the sea-gulls dip, And all my love flies after Your lonely ship.

Yet I am not despairing Though we must part, Nothing can be too bitter For my high heart.

All in the dreary midnight, Watching the flying foam, I wait for the golden morning When you come home.

I walked with my mother Where the tall trees grow, And she showed me tiny tables Where the elves sit in a row, And the bells that ring to call them When the night winds blow.

There were small frosted toadstools, And little cups of wine. And velvet banks to rest on Where moss grew thick and fine, And a smooth brown ring for dancing Underneath a pine.

But now when I go walking All the way is clear; The little bells are silent And the moss grown sere, And I know that in the moonlight Not an elf comes near.

Klang! Kling! the cow-bells ring As the cows come home at night.

Slowly they pass over the grass, Black and brown and white.

Sleepy and slow each one will go With daisies and clover in her;

At the milking stall she'll give them all As milk for Kenton's dinner.

I went back to a place I knew When I was very, very small ; The same old yellow roses grew Against the same old wall.

Each thing I knew was in its place; The well, the white stones by the road, The box-hedge with its cobweb lace, And a small spotted toad.

And yet the place seemed changed and still ; The house itself had shrunk, I know. And then my eyes began to fill — For I had always loved it so !