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Menken, Adah Isaacs
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| INFELICIA. |
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| RESURGAM. |
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| III. |
Yes, dear love, I died!
You smile because you see no cold, damp cerements of
a lonely grave hiding the youth of my fair face.
No head-stone marks the gold of my poor unburied
head.
But the flaunting poppy covered her red heart in the
sand.
Who can hear the slow drip of blood from a dead soul?
No Christ of the Past writes on my laughing brow His
"Resurgam."
Resurgam.
What is that when I have been dead these long weary
years!
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