I met my love a-weeping, <br />Weeping in the night-tide pale; <br />Her head among the lily bloom, <br />Weeping by an empty tomb— <br />An unshut tomb. <br />I gently stroked her golden hair <br />That shone so <br />With the moon-glow <br />In the sad-sweet air. <br />Like playful breezes from the south <br />Came soft smile-dimples to her mouth; <br />And when again she seemed to weep <br />I kissed her wild-wide eyes to sleep; <br />While there beyond the lily bloom <br />I saw the watching, waiting tomb. <br /> <br />I left my love a-sleeping, <br />Sleeping in the cypress vale; <br />Smiling sadly in the gloom; <br />Sleeping in the fastened tomb— <br />The tight-shut tomb. <br />How round the tomb the moving mists <br />Will twirl so <br />When the wind blows, <br />That the ivy twists <br />And shudders round the cold grey stone: <br />A serpent on a crumbling throne. <br />While I, upon a nearby mound <br />Hear salt tears soaking in the ground; <br />But there, when’er the lilies bloom, <br />I hear low laughter in the tomb.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mockery-10/
