Malade - Free Audiobook

TROTH WITH THE DEAD

THE moon is broken in twain, and half a moon
     Before me lies on the still, pale floor of the sky;
     The other half of the broken coin of troth
     Is buried away in the dark, where the still dead lie.
     They buried her half in the grave when they laid her
         away;
     I had pushed it gently in among the thick of her hair
     Where it gathered towards the plait, on that very
         last day;
     And like a moon in secret it is shining there.

     My half shines in the sky, for a general sign
     Of the troth with the dead I pledged myself to keep;
     Turning its broken edge to the dark, it shines indeed
     Like the sign of a lover who turns to the dark of
         sleep.
     Against my heart the inviolate sleep breaks still
     In darkened waves whose breaking echoes o'er
     The wondering world of my wakeful day, till I'm
         lost
     In the midst of the places I knew so well before.