Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ That my soul goes into the utter darkness
⁠When yours comes forth—and mine goes in to die.”
And as she wept she kissed his frozen forehead,
⁠Laid her warm lips upon his mouth so chill,
With no response—and then the waters flowing
⁠Into their grave, grew heavy, deep, and still.
* * *
And so, 'tis said, if to that fairy thorn-tree
⁠You dare to go, you see her ghost so lone,
She prays for love of her that you will aid her,
⁠And give your soul to buy her back her own. ”

“ Speak you quickly unto me.”
“O, I am not your own true love,” it answered,
⁠“He drifts without a grave upon the sea.”
“If he be dead, then gladly will I follow
⁠Down the black stairs of death into the grave.”
“Your lover calls you for a place to rest him
⁠From the eternal tossing of the wave.”
“I'll make my love a bed both wide and hollow,
⁠A grave wherein we both may ever sleep.”
“What give you for his body fair and slender,
⁠To draw it from the dangers of the deep!”
“I'll give you both my silver comb and earrings,
⁠I'll give you all my little treasure store.” ”

“ For, brother, I am weary for my lover.
⁠And I must see him once, alive or dead.
“I've prayed to heaven, but it would not listen,
⁠I'll call thrice in the devil's name to-night,
Be it a live man that shall come to hear me. ”