 | Later Poems |  |
I
Dead Love, dead Love, now shall thy burial be!
I give thee rainbowed hope to be thy shroud:
I lay the beauty maketh women proud
On thy dead heart: I set my girlhood's glee
In that strait bed which now doth compass thee,
Immortal as I thought, to mortal bowed,
With all thy supreme godhead disallowed.
Dead Love, dead Love, and what shall comfort me?
I give thee rainbowed hope to be thy shroud:
I lay the beauty maketh women proud
On thy dead heart: I set my girlhood's glee
In that strait bed which now doth compass thee,
Immortal as I thought, to mortal bowed,
With all thy supreme godhead disallowed.
Dead Love, dead Love, and what shall comfort me?
What new fresh loveliness will yet arise
From his dear dust and ashes, his that erst
Made the whole realm of beauty pale and dim?
What blossom of glory from his grave shall burst?
I will not look and see it with the eyes
That opened at his kiss, and looked on him.
From his dear dust and ashes, his that erst
Made the whole realm of beauty pale and dim?
What blossom of glory from his grave shall burst?
I will not look and see it with the eyes
That opened at his kiss, and looked on him.
| Later Poems | |