Dead!
The thick gold hair
That was so fair
Falls like a mantle round
Her body in it wound.
The clear grey eyes
That shone like skies
Are closed: they will not wake
Or soften for my sake.
The lips so red
Are mute and dead:
I have waited nigh a week,
And yet they will not speak!
Never again!
There is the pain.
And I may seek for tears
Through forty years!
That was so fair
Falls like a mantle round
Her body in it wound.
The clear grey eyes
That shone like skies
Are closed: they will not wake
Or soften for my sake.
The lips so red
Are mute and dead:
I have waited nigh a week,
And yet they will not speak!
Never again!
There is the pain.
And I may seek for tears
Through forty years!
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