I WILL not wake you, dear; no tears shall creep <br />To chill the still bed where you lie asleep; <br />No cry, no word, shall break the sanctity <br />Of the great silence where God lets you lie. <br />I will not tease your grave with flower or stone; <br />You are tired, my heart; you shall be left alone. <br />And even the kisses that my lips must lay <br />Upon the mould of the triumphant clay <br />Shall be so soft--like those a mother lays <br />Upon her sleeping baby's little face-- <br />You will not feel my kisses, will not hear; <br />You are tired: sleep on, I will not wake you, dear! <br />But when the good day comes, you will hear me cry, <br />'Ah, make a little place where I can lie!' <br />And half awakened, you will feel me creep <br />Into the folds of your familiar sleep, <br />And draw them round us, with a tender moan, <br />'How could you let me sleep so long alone?'<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-parting-ii/
