Your cool, selective memory moving slow Is a smooth glacier down a mountain pass. All those who slipped and fell in a crevasse To the long track's appointed end must go, Set preciously in old moraine and snow The coldly treasured jewels you amass Borne in a frozen pageant under glass. This is the valley where the ice will flow: I who am dead but living wait that space Though it be years until it come so far, To see, intact in you, my own dead face, Waiting for light from an extinguished star Would be like this: my life is held in trust Until I see that dead face turn to dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DEAD LOVER by LOUISE BOGAN PARAGRAPHS: 16 by HAYDEN CARRUTH BONDAGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MOTHER NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM AND EMILY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |