The Sorrow of Unicume
He lifts latch to the quiet room
where yet it seems she breathes:
he kneels to take her stark hands
in caress mute with the gloom.
"Draw the casement; let me see
last light without."
Ah, fierce the white, white stars to hurt,
their beauty a wild shout.
Retch of flower scent, lush decay
among time-burdened shrubs.
And near and shallowly buried lay
love once enfleshed, now fled.
III
Harsh my heart is,
scalded with grief:
my life a limp
worm-eaten leaf.
White flower unfeeling,
you star the mould:
evolvèd calmness,
my livid heart enfold.
34
