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His Dream
| I swayed upon the gaudy stern | | The butt-end of a steering-oar, | | And saw wherever I could turn | | A crowd
upon a shore. | | | | | | And though I would have hushed the crowd, | | There was no mother’s son but said, | | ‘What
is the figure in a shroud | | Upon a gaudy bed?’ | | | | | | And after running at the brim | | Cried out upon that thing
beneath | | —It had such dignity of limb— | | By the sweet name of Death. | | | | | | Though I’d my finger on my lip, | | What could I but take up the song? | | And running crowd and gaudy ship | | Cried out the whole night long, | | | | | | Crying amid the glittering sea, | | Naming it with ecstatic breath, | | Because it had such dignity, | | By the sweet
name of Death. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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