La fausse morte. The Undead

THE UNDEAD

HUMBLY, tenderly, upon the charming tomb, Upon the insentient stone, Of shadows, abandonments, generous love made, Your weary grace arrayed, I die, I die upon you, I sink exhausted down,

But at grief's lowest ebb to the sepulchre come, Whose enclosed plot of earth offers me some relief, This semblance of death, who has come back to life, Shudders, opens her eyes, which light on my remorse, And wrests from me always another new death More precious than any life.