Katharine Tynan Hinkson (1861–1931)

SHE only died last week, and yet

Suns might have risen and have set

A thousand: May ’s here like a bride,

And it was May when Mary died.

Incredible! We might last week

Have kissed her, held her, heard her speak,

Who now has travelled far, so far

Beyond the moon and the day-star.

Since she has gone all Time and Space

Have lost their meanings: Mary’s face

Grows dim in distance, like a light

Far down a darkness infinite.

Last week! Why this new grief we have

Is old as Time, old as the grave:

It was and will be: darkness spread

Over the world since Mary’s dead.

Last week she died. The lilac bough

Her eyes watched bud is blooming now.

The chestnut ’s lit her lamp since then,

And the lost cuckoo ’s come again.

A week ago! O endless space

Since Mary heavenward turned her face!

And still the lilac ’s on the spray

That budded when she went away.