Lethargy

Behold, Grief came, and stood against my bed,
And touched me with pure hands, and with calm
eyes
Looked on my face, and said to me, " Arise!
And do Life's bitter work." Whereto, I said,
"Forbear a little; she, my love, is dead,
And all the wretched life within me dies."
She passed, — and then, with sweet voluptuous sighs,

A crown of shining roses on her head,
Came one most fair, and cried to me, " Awake!
Am I not fair, behold my lips and breast?"
But she passed on, because no word I spake.
Then came a fiend, whose power my blood possessed,
And she the purpose of my life may shake;
Yet on these two, Grief's likeness was impressed.