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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536375" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At A Funeral</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I loved her too, this woman who is dead.<br>Look in my face. I have a right to go<br>And see the place where you have made her bed<br>Among the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I loved her too whom you are burying.<br>I have a right to stand beside her bier,<br>And to my handful of the dust I fling,<br>That she may hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I loved her; and it was not for the eyes<br>Which you have shut, nor for her yellow hair,<br>Nor for the face which in your bosom lies.<br>Let it lie there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor for the wild--birds' music of her voice,<br>Which we shall hear in dreams till we too sleep;<br>Nor for the rest, which made the world rejoice,<br>The angels weep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was not for the payment of sweet love,<br>Though love is often straitened for a kiss,<br>Nor for the hope of other joys above,<br>But only this,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That she had laid her hand upon my heart<br>Once in the summer time when we were young,<br>And that her finger--tips had left a smart,<br>And that my tongue</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Had spoken words which might not be unspoken<br>Lest they should make a by--word of love's truth,<br>And I had sworn that love should be the token<br>Of my youth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so I gave her all, and long ago<br>The treasure of my youth was put in pawn;<br>And she was little richer that I know<br>When that was gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I have lived a beggar since that day<br>And hide my face it may be from men's eyes;<br>For often I have seen them shrink away,<br>As in surprise</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That such a loathsome cripple should be found<br>To walk abroad in daylight with the rest,<br>And scarce a rag to cover up the wound<br>Upon his breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet no man stopped to ask how this might be,<br>Or I had scared them, and let loose my tongue,<br>How I had bought myself this misery<br>When I was young.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet I have loved her. This must be my pay,<br>The pension I have earned me with these tears;<br>The right to kneel beside her grave to--day,<br>Despite these years,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With all her kisses burning on my cheek,<br>As when I left her and our love was dead,<br>And our lips trembled though they did not speak,<br>The night I fled;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The right to bid you stand aside, nor be<br>A witness of our meeting. Did you love<br>In joy as I have loved in misery?<br>You did not prove</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your love was stronger than the strength of death,<br>Or she had never died upon your hand.<br>I would have fed her breathing with my breath;<br>I would have fanned</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A living wind of Heaven to her lips;<br>I would have stolen life from Paradise.<br>And she is dead, and you have seen eclipse<br>Within those eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I could know that you had loved her well;<br>If I could hold it for a certainty<br>That you had sold your life as I did sell;<br>If I could see</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blackness of your soul, and with my tongue<br>Taste the full bitterness of tears unshed;<br>If I should find your very heart was wrung<br>And maimed and dead;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I should feel your hand's grasp crumble mine,<br>And hug the pain when I should grasp in turn;<br>If I could dip my fingers in the brine<br>Of eyes that burn;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I could hear your voice call back the dead<br>With such a mighty cry of agony<br>That she should turn and listen in the bed<br>Where she doth lie,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all the heavens should together roll,<br>Thinking they heard the angel's trumpet tone,<br>I could forget it that you bought a soul<br>Which was my own;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could forget that she forgot her vows,<br>That aught was bartered for the wealth of love;<br>I could untell the story of my woes,<br>Till God above</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Should hold her guiltless and condone the wrong<br>Done to His justice; I could take your hand<br>And call you brother, as we went along<br>To take our stand</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before His judgment--seat with her again<br>Where we are hurrying,--for we could not keep<br>Our place unchallenged in the ranks of men<br>Who do not weep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536375" data-title="At A Funeral de Wilfrid Scawen Blunt" data-description="I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.

I loved her too whom you are burying.
I have a right to stand beside her bier,
And to my handful of the d..."></div>
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