Epitaph

The Earth Speaks:
  HUSH! he drowses, drowses deep,
 While my quiet arms I keep
 Close about him in his sleep.
  Once he glanced at me aghast,
 Shuddered from my kiss, and passed—
 But I hold him here at last.
  He had frenzied thoughts of fame,
 Piteous strivings for a name—
 But I called him, and he came.
  Called him with the mother-call
 That shall on the weary fall,
 Whispering “Home” to all, to all.
  Fair white skin he looked upon;
 Eyes in his with passion shone;
 But my patient love has won.
  There was one he deemed to wed;
 But he faltered, came instead
 To my narrow bridal bed.
  Vehement his veins and wild—
 Now a dreaming, glad-eyed child
 To my kisses reconciled.
  Tender heart and turbulent,
 I and he together pent
 In an æon of content!
 
  Heaven holds for him no prize:
 Stirless, nested here he lies
 In his narrow Paradise.
  When his trump God's Angel blows,
 When he shudders, wakens, knows,
 I shall hold him close, so close!
  He will feel life's aching pain,
 Turn his lips to me, and then
 Sink to dreamless sleep again.
  So for aye my love I keep
 Here upon my breast asleep—
 Hush!…he drowses…drowses…deep.

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Arthur Henry Adams

Arthur Henry Adams was a journalist and author. more…

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"Epitaph" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 30 May 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/3825/epitaph>.

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