Copper Sun (Cullen)/Two Thoughts of Death
Two Thoughts of Death
1
WHEN I am dead, it will not beMuch matter of concern to meWho folds my hands, or combs my hair,Or, pitying their sightless stare,Draws down the blinds across my eyes.I shall not have the least surmiseWhich of the many loves I hadWeeps most the passing of her lad.Not what these give, nor what they keep,Shall gladden or disturb my sleep,If only one who never guessedHow every tremor in her breastReverberated in my own.In that last hour come and bend downTo kiss my long-expectant mouthStill curved, in death, to meet her mouth.
2
I am content to play the martyr,To wear the dunce cap here at school;For every tear I shed I’ll barterTo Death; I’ll be no more a fool When that pale rider reaches downHis hand to me. He’ll beat a crownFrom all the aches my shoulders bore,And I shall lord one regal hourIllumined in all things beforeHis sickle spears another flower.While still his shears snarl through my thread,Dismembering it strand by strand,While I hang poised between the deadAnd quick, into omniscience fanned,My mind shall glow with one rich sparkBefore it ends in endless dark.These straining eyes, clairvoyant then,Shall probe beneath the calloused huskThat hides the better selves of men.And as my day throbs into dusk,This heart the world has made to bleed,While all its red stream deathward flows,Shall comprehend just why the seedMust agonize to be the rose.