SHE died and by her bed I sat all night.
I had no tears; it was o’er soon to weep
In those first hours; my heart was cleft too deep
For pain to harbor there. A waning light
From the old moon englorified her bright
And unadornèd hair, a heavy braid
Across her breast. I watched her, unafraid
To warm that leaden hand so waxen-white.
This was her Bride-bed—Death her lover was
As she had promised I sometime should be.
She lay entwinèd in his arms, and I
Kept watch, and a great cold came over us...
At last the untroubled stars that gazed on me
Waxed pale and faded in the morning sky.