Ah! That This Doom Must Be Hers!

Ah! That This Doom Must Be Hers!

Ah! That this doom must be hers!
Well I know that all humans must die,
And I have even accepted the whispers
Of my own mind to remind me that I
Will someday pass from this green earth.
But that she- the source of so much mirth,

The sparker of laughter where she walks-
Must someday yield, too, to the grave
Swells the whisper; a dark voice talks
To me about the doom from which to save
Her no one can labor or will endeavor.
When she is gone, then she is gone forever.

Still I cling to her; still breathe her scent,
And run through my fingers the silk of her hair,
And hope that we two may yet be blent
Together, and make of our love something fair,
Before she or I leave these shores for darkness.
I think that would soften death's sharp starkness.

It might be easier if I believed in any god,
But there is nothing above me but the sky,
And so in life there is no punishing rod,
And no net of heaven waiting when I die.
When once we must part, we will not meet again;
And this doom must, of course, cause me pain.

But then she tilts my face up to meet hers,
And smiles a little, and then she speaks softly,
The sound of her voice drowning the whispers.
"There is no heaven, and there is no god lofty.
We must lose what we have; but that is not doom,
And no reason to be cast into mortal gloom.

"That is the way of all things that live and die.
The leaves that fall from the tree are not green.
No bird can forever soar the brilliant sky.
And I place no faith in ghosts and spirits unseen.
But I see you, my love. Will you not join me?
Because we die, are we not allowed to be happy?"

Ah! That this death must be hers grieves me still,
But only till she tosses her head and gives a smile,
And then I remember that we have the "until."
The joy of mortality I will not defile
With hopes of afterlife or with grief about death.
We have possible joy until the last breath.