  A pulsing silence shrouds me round Like waves one feels, but hears no sound, Then slowly, as from realms above, There come soft whispered words of love. And something presses on my heart, Of my own self it seems a part, So very close I feel—her head— And now I know she is not dead! I try to break the secret charm That weighs upon my nerveless arm, I want to hold my love so close She will not wander whilst I doze. I think I fell asleep, The silence seemed more deep, I could not catch the beat The noiseless waves repeat. Again there comes that soundless sound, The heavy, ceaseless, rythmic pound. Is it the throb of worlds alive? Is it the hum of some near hive? My own tired pulse may be the cause Of what is more like faint applause, Of what might be a funeral drum So muffled to be almost dumb. But no, that pressure on my heart Reminds me, with a sudden dart Of pain, so keen it seems to thrill, That my dear love is by me still. And now I understand The meaning of that band, Her heart is beating time In unison with mine. ———— Again those words of love I hear, But now they are so very near, They’re telling me of deeds I’ve done And of the wished for cross I’ve won! So after all my life’s not lost, Amidst that fiery holocaust, I’ve done what I was meant to do, What matter if the fight’s not through! My little love your head is pressed Too close upon my burning breast, And yet it seems, that while you press, The pain is growing less and less. Perhaps I’m going west, I’m tired, I want to rest, My breathing’s slow and deep, I’m sinking fast asleep— ———— In shell tossed No Man’s Land they saw him, lying Unconscious, smiling in his sleep, but dying— His broken arm hung limp, a mortal wound Gaped wide above his heart, on which they found, Tight pressed, the picture of his youthful bride, Whose grave is swept by ocean’s restless tide. |
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