Echo

Come to me in the silence of the night; 
        Come in the speaking silence of a dream; 
    Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright 
        As sunlight on a stream; 
            Come back in tears, 
    O memory, hope and love of finished years.

    O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter-sweet,
        Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
    Where souls brim-full of love abide and meet;
        Where thirsting longing eyes
            Watch the slow door
    That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

    Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
        My very life again though cold in death;
    Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
        Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
            Speak low, lean low,
    As long ago, my love, how long ago.

    —Christini Rossetti