The Tomb At Akr Caar

‘I am thy soul, Nikoptis. I have watched These five millennia, and thy dead eyes Moved not, nor ever answer my desire, And thy light limbs, wherethrough I leapt aflame, Burn not with me nor any saffron thing. See, the light grass sprang up to pillow thee, And kissed thee with a myriad grassy tongues; But not thou me. I have read out the gold upon the wall, And wearied out my thought upon the signs. And there is no new thing in all this place. I have been kind. See, I have left the jars sealed, Lest thou shouldst wake and whimper for thy wine. And all thy robes I have kept smooth on thee. O thou unmindful ! How should I forget! -Even the river many days ago, The river? thou wast over young. And three souls came upon Thee- And I came. And I flowed in upon thee, beat them off; 1 have been intimate with thee, known thy ways. Have I not touched thy palms and finger-tips, Flowed in, and through thee and about thy heels? How 'came I in'? Was I not thee and Thee? And no sun comes to rest me in this place, And I am torn against the jagged dark, And no light beats upon me, and you say No word, day after day. Oh! I could get me out, despite the marks And all their crafty work upon the door, Out through the glass-green fields. . . . Yet it is quiet here: I do not go.’