I found a corpse,
with glittering hair,
of a woman whose face,
the white death in it had left still fair,
too fair for an earthly bed!.
So i loosened each each fold of her bright rolled from forehead to foot in a rush of red gold,
and kissed her lips till her lips were red,
and warm and light on her eyelids white.
I breath'd, and pressed unto mine her breast,
till the brown eyes opened and the breast grew warm,
and this woman, behold arose up bold,
and lifelike lifting a willful arm,
with steady feet from the winding sheet,
stepped forth to a muttered charm.
And now beside me, whatever betide me,
this woman is, night and day,
for she cleaves to me so, wherever i go,
she is with me whole of the way,
and her eyes are so bright in the dead of the night,
that they keep me awake with dread;
while my life blood pales in my vein and fails,
because her red lips are so red,
that i fear this my heart she must eat for her food;
and it makes my whole flesh creep,
to think she is drinking and draining my blood,
unawares, if i have a chance to sleep.
It were better for me, ere i came nigh her,
This corpse, -ere i looked upon her, -had they burnt my body with penal fire
with a sorcerer's dishonor.
For when the devil has made his lair,
in the living eyes of the dear dead women,
(to bind a men's strength by her golden hair, and break his heart, if his heart be human)
is there any penance, or any prayer,
that may save the sinner whose soul his tries to catch in the curse of the constant stare,
of those heartbreaking bewildering eyes,
Comfort less, cavernous glowworms that glare from the gaping grave where a dead hope lies?
it is more than soul of a man may bear.
For the misery worst of all miseries,
is desire eternally feeding despair,
on the flesh, or the blood, that forever supplies life more than enough to keep fresh in repair the death ever dying,
which yet never dies.
1 year ago