Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/131

Rh

Of funerals, the saddest Is love's that dies unanswered. The soul has two to bury: The soul of the beloved And its own other selfhood. And a third enters, living, The funeral flame that wraps them; His wings a yoke has weighted: Him the wise lips of lovers Call in their kisses, Eros, And gods: the Resurrector.