—She is at the bottom,
where mud and weed …
She went to sleep there,—
But even there she can’t find sleep!
—But I loved her,
as forty thousand brothers cannot love!
—Hamlet!
She is at the bottom, where mud: mud! …
And the last wreath
has washed up upon the riverside decking …
—But I loved her,
as forty thousand …
—Still less
than one lover.
She is at the bottom, where mud.
—But I
loved her …?