A Dirge
Death and a dirge at midnight;
Yet never a soul in the house
Heard anything more than the throb and beat
Of a beautiful waltz of Strauss.
Dead, dead, dead, and staring,
With a ghastly smile on its face;
But the world saw only laughing eyes
And roses, and billows of lace.
Floating and whirling together,
Into the beautiful night,
How little you dreamed of the ghastly thing
I was hiding away from your sight.
Meeting your dark eyes' splendour,
Feeling your warm, sweet breath,
How could you know that my passionate heart
Had died a horrible death?
Died in its fever and fervour,
Died in its beautiful bloom;
And that waltz of Strauss was a funeral dirge,
Leading the way to the tomb.
But you held my hand at parting,
And I smiled back a gay good night;
And you never knew of the ghastly corpse
I was hiding away from your sight.
Yet whenever I hear the Danube -
Under its pulsing strain,
I catch the wail of the funeral dirge,
And my heart dies over again.
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Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 55 sec read
- 2 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | abxb cdxd eacA efxf eghg caxA xxhx |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 947 |
Words | 185 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
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"A Dirge" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/55127/a-dirge>.
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