I. It is midnight, my wedded; Let us lie under The tempest bright undreaded, In the warm thunder: (Tremble and weep not! What can you fear?) My heart's best wish is thine, -- That thou wert white, and bedded On the softest bier, In the ghosts' moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no; Only two devils, that blow Through the murderer's ribs to and fro, In the ghosts' moonshine. II. Who is there, she said afraid, yet Stirring and awaking The poor old dead? His spade, it Is only making, -- (Tremble and weep not! What do you crave?) Where yonder grasses twine, A pleasant bed, my maid, that Children call a grave, In the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no; Only two devils, that blow Through the murderer's ribs to and fro, In the ghosts' moonshine. III. What dost thou strain above her Lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain, to cover Her bosom's brightness? (Tremble and weep not: what dost thou fear?) -- My blood is spilt like wine, Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover, Thou hast stabbed me dear, In the ghosts' moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no; Only her goblin doth blow Through the murderer's ribs to and fro, In its own moonshine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO A BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE HYMN TO THE FLOWERS by HORACE SMITH WYATT BEING IN PRISON, TO BRIAN by THOMAS WYATT THE ROSE TREE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AGAMEMNON: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS |