Epitaph

The Earth Speaks:

SH! he drowses, drowses deep,

While my quiet arms I

Close about him in his sleep.

Once he glanced at me aghast,

Shuddered from my kiss, and passed —But I hold him here at last.

He had frenzied thoughts of fame,

Piteous strivings for a name —But I called him, and he came.

Called him with the

That shall on the weary fall,

Whispering "Home" to all, to all.

Fair white skin he looked upon;

Eyes in his with passion shone;

But my patient love has won.

There was one he deemed to wed;

But he faltered, came

To my narrow bridal bed.

Vehement his veins and wild —Now a dreaming, glad-eyed

To my kisses reconciled.

Tender heart and turbulent,

I and he together

In an aeon of content!

Heaven holds for him no prize:

Stirless, nested here he

In his narrow Paradise.

When his trump God's Angel blows,

When he shudders, wakens, knows,

I shall hold him close, so close!

He will feel life's aching pain,

Turn his lips to me, and

Sink to dreamless sleep again.

So for aye my love I

Here upon my breast asleep —Hush! . . .
he drowses . . .
drowses . . .
deep.