THE DEAD MEN
IT was yesterday I heard again
The dead man talk with living men,
And watched the thread of converse go
Among the speakers to and fro,
Woven with merriment and wit
And beauty to embroider it;
And in the middle now and then,
The laughter clear of happy men—
Only to me a charnel scent
Drifted across the argument,
Only to me his fair young head
Was lifeless and untenanted,
And in his quiet even tones,
I heard the sound of naked bones,
And in his empty eyes could see
The man who talked was dead, like me.
The dead man talk with living men,
And watched the thread of converse go
Among the speakers to and fro,
Woven with merriment and wit
And beauty to embroider it;
And in the middle now and then,
The laughter clear of happy men—
Only to me a charnel scent
Drifted across the argument,
Only to me his fair young head
Was lifeless and untenanted,
And in his quiet even tones,
I heard the sound of naked bones,
And in his empty eyes could see
The man who talked was dead, like me.
Then in the conversation’s swim,
I leaned across and spoke to him,
I leaned across and spoke to him,
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