Her—last Poems—
312
Her—last Poems—
Poets ended—
Silver—perished—with her Tongue—
Not on Record—bubbled Other,
Flute—or Woman—so divine—
Not unto its Summer Morning—
Robin—uttered Half the Tune—
Gushed too full for the adoring—
From the Anglo-Florentine—
Late—the Praise—'Tis dull—Conferring
On the Head too High – to Crown—
Diadem—or Ducal Showing—
Be its Grave—sufficient Sign—
Nought—that We—No Poet’s Kinsman—
Suffocate—with easy Wo—
What, and if Ourself a Bridegroom—
Put Her down—in Italy?
