Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXIII
But, when the church was hushed in the night wind,
And all were gone who might his zeal disclaim,
Or hinder the firm purpose of his mind,
A silent man among the tombs he came,
Stooping to listen if so be some sound
Of living thing with speech or power to breathe
Should issuant be from the dark underground,--
And last to hers. There on that home of death
He kneeled him down and called aloud to her,
``Natalia, O Natalia, my beloved,
Am I not here thy soul's petitioner
Whom thou so lovedst?'' And around him moved
The phantoms of the night. And the wind's sigh
Answered his prayer, ``Beloved, it is I.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Added by Poetry Lover
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