Second April / by Edna St. Vincent Millay [electronic resource]

XII

Cherish you then the hope I shall forget At length, my lord, Pieria? — put away For your so passing sake, this mouth of clay These mortal bones against my body set, For all the puny fever and frail sweat Of human love, — renounce for these, I say, The Singing Mountain's memory, and betray The silent lyre that hangs upon me yet? Ah, but indeed, some day shall you awake, Rather, from dreams of me, that at your side So many nights, a lover and a bride, But stern in my soul's chastity, have lain, To walk the world forever for my sake, And in each chamber find me gone again!