By Her White Bed I Muse A Little Space: She Fell Asleep - Not Very Long Ago, - And Yet The Grass Was Here And Not The Snow - The Leaf, The Bud, The Blossom, And - Her Face! - Midsummer'S Heaven Above Us, And The Grace Of Lovers Own Day, From Dawn To Afterglow; The Fireflies' Glimmering, And The Sweet And Low Plaint Of The Whip-Poor-Wills, And Every Place In Thicker Twilight For The Roses' Scent. Then Night. - She Slept - In Such Tranquility, I Walk Atiptoe Still, Nor Dare To Weep, Feeling, In All This Hush, She Rests Content - That Though God Stood To Wake Her For Me, She Would Mutely Plead: "Nay, Lord! Let Him So Sleep."