Death is the supple SuitorCommenta
That wins at last -
It is a stealthy Wooing
By pallid innuendoes
And dim approach
But brave at last with Bugles
And a bisected Coach
It bears away in triumph
To Troth unknown
And Kinsmen as divulgeless
As throngs of Down.
A little Snow was here and thereCommenta
Disseminated in her Hair -
Since she and I had met and played
Decade had hastened to Decade -
But Time had added, not obtained
Impregnable the Rose
For summer too indelible -
Too obdurate - for Snows.
A Chilly Peace infests the GrassCommenta
The Sun respectful lies -
Not any Trance of industry
These shadows scrutinize -
Whose Allies go no more astray
For service or for Glee -
Though all mankind do anchor here
From whatsoever Sea.
To mend each tattered FaithCommenta
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate -
'Tis threaded in the Air -
And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
'Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before.
These Fevered Days - to take them to the ForestCommenta
Where Waters cool around the mosses crawl -
And shade is all that devastates the stillness
Seems it sometimes this would be all.