Which?

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The wind was on the forest,
  And silence on the wold;
  And darkness on the waters,
  And heaven was starry cold;
  When Sleep, with mystic magic,
  Bade me this thing behold:

  This side, an iron woodland;
  That side, an iron waste;
  And heaven, a tower of iron,
  Wherein the wan moon paced,
  Still as a phantom woman,
  Ice-eyed and icy-faced.

  And through the haunted tower
  Of silence and of night,
  My Soul and I went only,
  My Soul, whose face was white,
  Whose one hand signed me listen,
  One bore a taper-light.

  For, lo! a voice behind me
  Kept sighing in my ear
  The dreams my flesh accepted,
  My mind refused to hear--
  Of one I loved and loved not,
  Whose spirit now spake near.

  And, lo! a voice before me
  Kept calling constantly
  The hopes my mind accepted,
  My flesh refused to see--
  Of one I loved and loved not,
  Whose spirit spake to me.

  This way the one would bid me;
  This way the other saith:--
  Sweet is the voice behind me
  Of LIFE that followeth;
  And sweet the voice before me
  Of LIFE whose name is DEATH.

© Madison Julius Cawein