Menken, Adah Isaacs
Silver walls of Sea!
Gold and spice laden barges!
White-sailed ships from Indian seas, with costly pearls
and tropic wines go by unheeding!
None pause to lay one token at my feet.
No mariner lifts his silken banner for my answering hail.
No messages from the living to the dead.
Must all lips fall out of sound as the soul dies to be heard?
Shall Love send back no revelation through this interminable
distance of Death?
Can He who promised the ripe Harvest forget the weeping
How can I stand here so calm?
I hear the clods closing down my coffin, and yet shriek
not out like the pitiless wind, not reach my wild arms after
my dead soul!
Will no sum of fire again rise over the solemn East?
I am tired of the foolish moon showing only her haggard
face above the rocks and chasms of my grave.
O Rocks! O Chasms! sink back to your black cradles
in the West!
Leave me dead in the depths!
Leave me dead in the wine!
Leave me dead in the dance!