Sara Teasdale, comp. (1884–1933).
The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women. 1917.
Irene Rutherford McLeod
A
To be gathered to your breast
So tired that my lips are dumb,
So sad that my warm heart is numb:
Belovèd, let me rest.
All the cruel voices cease,
I can sleep when you are by,
And I am too faint to cry:
Here at last is peace.
Almost I could learn to weep!
Hush, I feel my spirit grow …
When you tire … let me go …
I shall be … asleep.