The lovely Portuguese is dead, Tall candles burn about her head. Her negro slave, Lili-Alixe, Prays with an ivory crucifix. Until strange men knock on the door, And walk upon the painted floor . . . O men who bear this poor dead woman Unto that place where nothing's human, Behold your shadows this noon day And know that she is less than they. Rejoice that these black phantoms move, Your living presences to prove: Yourselves that still the heavy sun Finds here alive, and shines upon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOT SIX DIFFERENCES by MARVIN BELL SONG:SO WHY DOES THIS DEAD CARNATION by HAYDEN CARRUTH CHAMBER MUSIC: 8 by JAMES JOYCE SONG OF THE MOON by CLAUDE MCKAY THE COMING OF WAR: ACTAEON by EZRA POUND AN EVANGELIST'S WIFE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |