The Complaint / William Wordsworth

Before I see another day,

  Oh let my body die away!

  In sleep I heard the northern gleams;

  The stars they were among my dreams;

  In sleep did I behold the skies,

  I saw the crackling flashes drive;

  And yet they are upon my eyes,

  And yet I am alive.

  Before I see another day,

  Oh let my body die away!

  My fire is dead: it knew no pain;

  Yet is it dead, and I remain.

  All stiff with ice the ashes lie;

  And they are dead, and I will die.

  When I was well, I wished to live,

  For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;

  But they to me no joy can give,

  No pleasure now, and no desire.

  Then here contented will I lie;

  Alone I cannot fear to die.

  Alas! you might have dragged me on

  Another day, a single one!

  Too soon despair o'er me prevailed;

  Too soon my heartless spirit failed;

  When you were gone my limbs were stronger,

  And Oh how grievously I rue,

  That, afterwards, a little longer,

  My friends, I did not follow you!

  For strong and without pain I lay,

  My friends, when you were gone away.

  My child! they gave thee to another,

  A woman who was not thy mother.

  When from my arms my babe they took,

  On me how strangely did he look!

  Through his whole body something ran,

  A most strange something did I see;

  --As if he strove to be a man,

  That he might pull the sledge for me.

  And then he stretched his arms, how wild!

  Oh mercy! like a little child.

  My little joy! my little pride!

  In two days more I must have died.

  Then do not weep and grieve for me;

  I feel I must have died with thee.

  Oh wind that o'er my head art flying,

  The way my friends their course did bend,

  I should not feel the pain of dying,

  Could I with thee a message send.

  Too soon, my friends, you went away;

  For I had many things to say.

  I'll follow you across the snow,

  You travel heavily and slow:

  In spite of all my weary pain,

  I'll look upon your tents again.

  My fire is dead, and snowy white

  The water which beside it stood;

  The wolf has come to me to-night,

  And he has stolen away my food.

  For ever left alone am I,

  Then wherefore should I fear to die?

  My journey will be shortly run,

  I shall not see another sun,

  I cannot lift my limbs to know

  If they have any life or no.

  My poor forsaken child! if I

  For once could have thee close to me,

  With happy heart I then should die,

  And my last thoughts would happy be.

  I feel my body die away,

  I shall not see another day.