I Loved the Gravedigger
Once I figured out she dealt with death
By slowly moving the spade up and down.
Strange but true, there was still the sound of breath
That moaned aloud from a space below the ground.
Wondered I... was there a badge of sorrow
On her whiter than white, pale, prideful face?
Tried have I to look above and below,
Yet, felt and saw only her shameless grace.
Alas! Why was I lost in her sweet oaths
Which died at the fall of September's leaves?
And why, heedless was I to cast those graveclothes?
Worse yet, why failed she to hear our Love weep?
Then, while expending my reasons to strive,
She dug the grave and buried our Love alive!
