Unsleeping

Oh if it be more meet to weep,
Let flow my tears.
Though ne'er so fain, so fain for sleep
Through weary years.
The clock's tick and the dark's dull thrill,
My fever-glow,
And thoughts of her the long hours fill
That come and go.
sleep, my burning lids to seal,
O tears that wet,
Why come ye not my soul to heal,
Or let forget.
No, not forget: better to burn,
Better to lie
Thus seared, awake, than turn
To Death and die.
I dread not Death, but, ah, I dread
Not to remember
Who took my heart life-thrilled and red,
And left gray ember.