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Adelaide Crapsey - The Mourner
Work rating: Low

I have no heart for noon-tide and the sun, 

But I will take me where more tender night 

Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy darkness down. 

And shelters me that I may weep in peace, 

And feel no pitying eyes, and hear no voice 

Attempt my grief in comfort`s alien tongue. 


Where cypresses, more black than night is black, 

Border straight paths, or where, on hillside slopes, 

The dim grglimmer of the olive trees 

Lies like a breath, a ghost, upon the dark, 

There will I wander when the nightingale 

Ceases, and even the veil`ed stars withdraw 

Their tremulous light, there find myself at rest, 

A silence and a shadow in the gloom. 


But all the dead of all the world shall know 

The pacing of my sable-sandall`d feet, 

And know my tear-drenched veil along the grass, 

And think them less forsaken in their graves, 

Saying: There`s one remembers, one still mourns; 

For the forgotten dead are dead indeed.
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