Body and Spirit

Who stands before me on the stairs:

Ah, is it you, my love?

My candle-light burns through your arm,

And still thou dost not move;

Thy body’s dead, this is not you—

It is thy ghost my light burns through.

Thy spirit this: I leap the stairs,

To reach thy body’s place;

I kiss and kiss, and still there comes

No colour to thy face;

I hug thee for one little breath —

For this is sleep, it is not death!