Dirge

WHEN, at dawning,
I fail to answer;
My brain to reason.

My heart to beat;
No more a torment
Of labored breathing,
Of limbs rebellious.

Of aching feet;
Say, Companions
We’re fine and trusty;
Kin united

In Time’s defeat;
Fond and faithful,
Women shrived him,
For eager loving,

If incomplete";
But O, the Radiant,
Prond and Peerless,
The Golden Giver,

The Honey-sweet!
Her, diswidowed
From broken body,
From ashes seattered,
I haste to greet.