I glimpsed you strolling as you always used to do, Graceful as a playful breeze On the knoll alive with lilies, yesterday. You wore that tailored shirt of sailor-blue, Tattered jeans above your knees And your dust-gold hair in sunny disarray. Erotic wraith, I know you’ve been untrue! Death’s the lover whom you please. He seduced you, pretty phantom—pallid, fey, In denim-blue and sunlit gold. And I feel grey As your marker, where I kneel and pray.