Imitation of Graves

It comes towards us, even as we kiss.

I'd hoped to keep you ignorant of this,

But when you took me on that winter trail

In that dancing wood, where the snow and sunlight fell,

Before such sad beauty, my tongue was bound to fail.

Underneath your crumpled hood

I started sadly, still, I started to tell—

That was when, miracle!, you slayed the fearful spell

Of what is coming even as we mortals kiss,

Whispering—forget all that, we were made for this.