Not in my body was my life at all
But in this lady's lips and hands and eyes
Look on yourself without me, and recall
The waste remembrance and forlorn surmise
This loving hand, once warm and capable
Of earnest grasping — Now lies deep and cold
And from the icy silence of the tomb,
It haunts my days and chills my dreaming nights
How I could wish my own heart dry of blood
So in your veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed — see here it is —
I hold it towards you.
Mid change and changeless night that holds its breath,
Lies all that golden hair undimm'd in death.
I lay not alone, for your verses were there,
But the grave was reopened and they rose again.
I lie there without them, compelled to remain
A corpse in a coffin with golden hair.