Your death, dear Lady, was quite cold For all the brave tears and ultimate spasm. So civilized were your thin hands, I marvel They too, like jellyfishes, came from protoplasm. O ineffable cheeks of rhododendron bloom, It cannot be you've withered so mortally! Your husband is heartbroken - he said so, Winking at his cocktail, talking dollars carefully. Dead Lady, it is revealed that you were twenty-six And died giving us an homunculus with bald head: May your black hair darken even the dark Styx, May your soul have no tears, forgetful of protoplasm. We buried you in the unremissive ground. I went home. Somewhere I heard the clang of a hearse. You are very far away, dear Lady - As I light this cigarette - and under an inscrutable curse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EUROPE A PROPHECY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE VALSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE SEVEN TIMES SEVEN [- LONGING FOR HOME] by JEAN INGELOW ON THE DANGER OF WAR by GEORGE MEREDITH THE ABSINTHE-DRINKER by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS A MASQUE OF DEAD QUEENS by STANLEY E. BABB |