INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN

-- I AM only the phrase
Of an unknown musician;
By a gentle voice spoken
I stole forth and met you
In halcyon days.
Yet, frail as I am, you yourself shall be broken
Before we are parted; I have but one mission:
Till death to beset you.

-- I am only the glowing
Of a dead afternoon,
When you, full of wonder,
Your hand in your mother's,
Up great streets were going.
Pale was my flame, and the cold sun fell under
The blue heights of houses; but I shall gleam on
In your life past all others.

-- I am only the bloom
Of an apple-tree's roses,
That stooped to the grass
Where the robins were nesting
In an old vessel's womb.
Dead is the tree, and your steps may not pass
The place where it smiled; but I'll come, till death closes
My ghostly molesting.

-- You phantoms, pursue me,
Be upon me, amaze me,
Though nigh all your presence
With sorrow enchant me,
In sorrow renew me!
Songless and gleamless I near no new pleasance,
In subtle returnings of ecstasy raise me,
To my winding-sheet haunt me!

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