Thereby Your Grave

(I)

My love would frown, if could, about this stone;
For grey had never pleased her fashioned eye
And Times New Roman carved for older throne-
Not beauty, youth, no mason knew could die.
Would they, as I, denounce that fair be bones?
Thereby no empty tomb would need a cross;
Engravings spared from eyes of teary loans:
That borrows from a grave's imprint of loss.
But plainly here invokes her name in etch:
Confronting on my dreams that have her live-
As vividly as breath, her beauty's sketch,
Yet sight to stone cannot with death unlive.

Upon then mason grave this line 'neath hers:
'If here resides, then beauty here refers'.

(II)

But when I part her grave, part follows me;
Unseen but seen behind my weary lids;
At best when closed does darkness gift her be
Into the light methought that death forbids.
Yet do I mourn with force to self deceive?
Defying state that time shall be my own,
Lest have me too immortal deaths receive
And dwell between where mind and spirit roam?
No, there's my love, to where all beauty flies!
Where havens still her grace as when had left,
I bound her not to ducts where beauty cries
Tho' I despair by depths at mine bereft.

Goodbye my dear, may essence seize the skies!
But be nearby, when near your body lies:

(III)

That I converse with you on matter's new;
That matter's old do not befall to you,
Could then forgive if by the winds so blew-
A leaf upon my love that grows anew?
Know that they grow to not conceal your mound
Nor dig you deeper than by sorrow dug;
Think no mistake that 'neath my heart's not bound;
But love's bereft have none a better drug.
Yet if by sign out-from your spirit world;
By sparrows, storms, or ominous displayed:
Have by the skies the word 'alone' so hurled
Then shall it be: my love is ours replayed.

But if from winds your gentled blessings gave
Your graciousness remains! Thereby your grave.