Who Shall Deliver Me?

(The Argosy, Feb. 1866.)

God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself, I lock my door and bar them out The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself, 10 And start self-purged upon the race That all must run! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself, And start with lightened heart upon The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself, This coward with pathetic voice Who craves for ease, and rest, and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself; My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe, 20 My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself, Can roll the strangling load from me, Break off the yoke and set me free.

IF

(The Argosy, March 1866.)

If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day, O, what a day to-day would be! But now he’s away, miles and miles away From me across the sea.

O little bird, flying, flying, flying To your nest in the warm west, Tell him as you pass that I am dying, As you pass home to your nest.

I have a sister, I have a brother, A faithful hound, a tame white dove; 10 But I had another, once I had another, And I miss him, my love, my love!

In this weary world it is so cold, so cold, While I sit here all alone; I would not like to wait and to grow old, But just to be dead and gone.

Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed, Fair where I am lying: Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead-- He for whom I am dying. 20

Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it, And on the stone write my name; If he never comes, I shall never know it, But sleep on all the same.