| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
| |
| 41. To Celia |
| | | I. Consummation |
| | | By Witter Bynner |
| |
| |
| THERE was a strangeness on your lips, | |
| Lips that had been so sure; | |
| You still were mine but in eclipse, | |
| Beside me but obscure. | |
| |
| There was a cloud upon your heart; | 5 |
| For, Celia, where you lay, | |
| Death, come to break your life apart, | |
| Had led your love away. | |
| |
| Through the cold distance of your eyes | |
| You could no longer see. | 10 |
| But when you died, you heard me rise | |
| And followed suddenly. | |
| |
| And close beside me, looking down | |
| As I did on the dead, | |
| You made of time a wedding-gown, | 15 |
| Of space a marriage-bed. | |
| |
| I took, in you, death for a wife, | |
| You married death in me, | |
| Singing, “There is no other life, | |
| No other God than we!” | 20 |
| |
|
|
|
