Classic Poem

Sorrow walks in black of a black Never in the spring,
grieves in a black veil among the sunlit little leaves (pale
mouths kissing openly Now) dreads Never in the summer,
in the coming summer numb Never-tomb.
These leaves too whose veins dawn-new beseem a babe's
become behave beget befall fall,
in Autumn lose, lose the race, lose go of Now,
Never overtake, takes, Winter tires not, taking.
The glorious court, the marketplace of the gods,
the close-paved sunshine and the parallel planked rays
She sees gapethrough rent to the underlying chamber,
that unplumbed shaft, fathomless shadowy and sheer,
Death's room womb's opposite.
To be led captive in a strange land
is the doom of woman when the hero Hadeswards is sped.