|
I lift my heavy heart up
solemnly,
As once Electra her
sepulchral urn,
And, looking in thine eyes,
I overturn
The ashes at thy feet.
Behold and see
What a great heap of grief
lay hid in me,
And how the red wild
sparkles dimly burn
Through the ashen greyness.
If thy foot in scorn
Could tread them out to
darkness utterly,
It might be well perhaps.
But if instead
Thou wait beside me for the
wind to blow
The grey dust up, . . those
laurels on thine head,
O My beloved, will not
shield thee so,
That none of all the fires
shall scorch and shred
The hair beneath. Stand
further off then! Go. |
lovers-poems.com