Rainy Night

Ghosts of all my lovely sins,

     Who attend too well my pillow,

Gay the wanton rain begins;

     Hide the limp and tearful willow.

Turn aside your eyes and ears,

     Trail away your robes of sorrow,

You shall have my further years,—

     You shall walk with me tomorrow.

I am sister to the rain;

     Fey and sudden and unholy,

Petulant at the windowpane,

     Quickly lost, remembered slowly.

I have lived with shades, a shade;

     I am hung with graveyard flowers.

Let me be tonight arrayed

     In the silver of the showers.

Every fragile thing shall rust;

     When another April passes

I may be a furry dust,

     Sifting through the brittle grasses.

All sweet sins shall be forgot;

     Who will live to tell their siring?

Hear me now, nor let me rot

     Wistful still, and still aspiring.

Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;

     I am frail, be you forgiving.

See you not that I have need

     To be living with the living?

Sail, tonight, the Styx’s breast;

     Glide among the dim processions

Of the exquisite unblest,

     Spirits of my shared transgressions. 

Roam with young Persephone,

     Plucking poppies for your slumber …

With the morrow, there shall be

     One more wraith among your number.