HENDERSON DAINGERFIELD NORMAN
287
I say
That there will de no night!
And when the Pheasant asks: "Ah, when?" the Cock of Dawn replies: "Some Day."
UNSEPULCHERED
I thought that I had known you as my heart
Knows pulse next pulse, that near and that apart,
But now that all your life-blood is quite done,
And in white waiting ages have begun
You would tell me of foreign things, unknown,
In this last whispering—almost alone . . .
Almost alone.
I strive to understand, if but one word
That dead to dead repeat, and you have heard,
But candles flicker with their noise of light,
And perfumes bleed between us through the night,
And all the knell of tears is in the air . . .
Is death afraid of what brave life must bear?
Is death afraid!
