What She Said In Her Tomb

Now, at last, I lie asleep
Where no morrows break,—
Why take heed to tread so soft?—
Fear you lest I wake?

Time there was when I was red
As a rose in June
With the kisses of your lips,—
Ah, they failed me soon.

Now they would not warm my mouth
Though they fell like rain:
I am marble, dear; and they
Marble cannot stain.

Ah, if you had loved me more,
Been content to wait,
Some time you had found the key
To Love's inmost gate.

Why, indeed, should any man
Wait for Autumn days,
When the present Summer wooes
To her rosy ways?

Only,—now I lie here dead;
I shall not awake,
And you need not tread so soft
For my deaf ears' sake.
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