Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/197



poor Soul speaketh to its Clay: I cannot leave thee thus; I'll stay With thee, with thee in death will sink And black Annihilation drink. Thou still hast been my second I, Embracing me so lovingly; A satin feast-robe round my form Doubled with ermine soft and warm. Woe's me! I dare not face the fact— Quite disembodied, quite abstract, To loiter as a blessèd Naught Above there in the realm of Thought, Through Heavenly halls immense and frigid, Where the Immortals dumb and rigid Yawn to me as they clatter by With leaden clogs so wearily. Oh, it is horrible! Oh, stay, Stay with me, thou beloved Clay!