Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 22

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XXII HORROR
Thy body is no more thy house,
 It is become thy sepulchre.
I cannot any more arouse
 The spirit that did inhabit there.

The brain's asleep before its time.
 I would that thou hadst died outright,
And I had seen thee, in thy prime,
 Go half to darkness, half to light!

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