Grey and ghostly cypresses Meet above our bed. That is surely why she presses Close to me her head. Dead are we. Be quite at rest! There can be no harm If across what was her breast I should lay my arm. She was never very brave, And these damned trees A most evil whisper have In the midnight breeze. Close she clings with body thin; She was always slender; Do you hold it a deep sin, Buried, to be tender? She is frightened, she would say, But her lips have gone -- Curse you! Look the other way. Read our burial-stone! What? She brought me to this pass? Brought me to this place? Oh, it may be! Turn the glass. She had a lovely face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHANTOM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE LONDON VOLUNTARIES: 3. SCHERZANDO by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE SOWER AND HIS SEED by WILLIAM EDWARD HARTPOLE LECKY EULALIE; A SONG by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE SUNDEW by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE ABSTINENT LOVER by ABUL BAHR I DREAM I'M LEAVING by MARGARET AHO DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN |