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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Florence Wilkinson

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Her Death

Florence Wilkinson

From the Other Side

THE SILENCE sobbed

Like a bird’s throat,

Clear as a star.

Yes, in the gathering twilight throbbed

A liquid note,

A breath!

It drew me far….

Over my room’s inscrutable shade

A Brightness leaned,

A sun, a cloud.

I sang aloud—

Yet no one heard, no mortal heard—

“Who hasteneth?

Yea, I am ready, ready, Death!

My Death, dear Death my life!”

The step, the word—

Ah, he has heard!

He came, I kissed the great white blade.

I lived—and I was not afraid.