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, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
...Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull 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.

Christina Rossetti (1830-94)