Parker White: Sonnet of the Unsleeping Dead

That night when all the madness of the sea

met with the pelting clatter of the rain

to guard her fresh-dug tomb, despairingly

I thought I could not know despair again.

The widower of beauty, I resolved

to take bright horror to my lonely bed.

Now sage in arcane learning, I had solved

the puzzle of the living and the dead.

 

The last strange words were spoken, and the last

unguents bestowed upon her firm cold flesh.

Her chill sojourn beyond the tomb was past;

she moved. And then I saw ( this was the knife

which freed my mind from sanity´s frail mesh)

her eyes too bright with that which was not life.

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