The Tryst

I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.

She could not stay me, being dead;
Her body here was mine to hold.
What if her lips had lost their red?
To me they always tasted cold
With the cold words she said.

Did my breath run along her hair,
And free the pulse, and fire the brain,
My wild blood wake her wild blood there?
Here eyelids lifted wide again
In a blue, sudden stare.

Beneath my fierce, profane caress
The whole white length of body moved;
The drowsy bosom seemed to press
As if against a breast beloved,
Then fail for weariness.

No, not that anguish! Christ forbid
That I should raise such dead! I rose,
Stifled the mouth with lilies, hid
Those eyes, And drew the long hair close,
And shut the coffin lid.

My cold brow on the cold wood laid,
Quiet and close to-night we lie.
No cruel words her lips have said.
I shall not take nor she deny.
The dead is with the dead.

Poem topics: , , , , ,

Rate this poem:

Add The Tryst poem to your favorites

Add Poet Muriel Stuart to your favorites

Similar Poems
There is no similar poems related to "The Tryst" poem.
All Muriel Stuart Poems

Popular Poets

Robert Southwell (5 poems)
Mildred McNeal Sweeney (2 poems)
Joanna Baillie (1 poems)
Eva Gore-Booth (1 poems)
Favour Luswa (0 poems)
Brooks Haxton (2 poems)
Witter Bynner (9 poems)
James Chadwick (1 poems)
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (0 poems)
Hermann Hagedorn (4 poems)

Popular Poems

The Inventor, by Rudyard Kipling
XXXII from Love Redeemed, by William Baylebridge
The Visit, by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wishes To His (Supposed) Mistress, by Richard Crashaw
Let Them Go, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
.Romantic Dinner In The Candlelight, by Cristina Teodor
Psalm 08, by John Milton
Morning Hymn, by Charles Wesley
The Woods Shake In An Ague-Fit, by Mathilde Blind
If Thou Sayest, Behold, We Knew It Not, by Christina Rossetti