THE RECLUSE
Forevermore.
My corpse was once a festering sore,
And rotten in each swelling pore,
And rotten to the very core,
But now that time is gone of yore
Forevermore.
My body will not pour
A noisome pool as once before.
My bones are hoar
Forevermore.
Dark, dank, cold, dead,
Silent, still, old, dead;
Dead, dead,
Forever dead.
Dead, dead,
Forever dead.
Flesh? Fled.
Forever fled.
Body? Spread.
Forever spread.
Soul? Dead.
Forever dead.
Forever dead, dead, dead.
(seventy-seven)
