Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/243



OU say I'm dying! It is so, I think:

All pain has left me, and I seem to sink—

A child, content, back to the Mother's breast.

Life grew full sweet of late,—but death is best.

I wanted just this one last quiet hour

To tell you how hope grew fruition's flower,—

Giving me, in a moment, bliss to know,

Beyond what tranquil ages might bestow.

You must not weep, my friend! Consider still

How many lives go frustrate of their will;

How many spend in vain, and fruitless tire!—

I near the goal of my supreme desire.

Your tears reproach the happiness I feel,

And from this dear contentment something steal.

Smile, if you can, beloved! nor delay

What I would tell you ere I go my way.