Lethe
Through the noiseless doors of Death
Three passed out, as with one breath.
Two had faces stern as Fate,
Stamped with unrelenting hate.
One upon her lips of guile
Wore a cold, mysterious smile.
Each of each unseen, the pale
Shades went down the hollow vale
Till they came unto the deep
River of Eternal Sleep.
Breath of wind, or wing of bird,
Never that dark stream hath stirred;
Still it seems as is the shore,
But it flows for evermore
Softly, through the meadows wan
To the Sea Oblivion.
In the dusk, like drops of blood,
Poppies hang above the flood;
On its surface lies a thin,
Ghostly web of mist, wherein
All things vague and changing seem
As the faces in a dream.
Two knelt down upon the bank
And of that dark water drank.
But the Third stood by the while,
Smiling her mysterious smile.
Rising up, those shades of men
Gazed upon each other, then
Side by side, upon the bank,
In a bed of poppies sank.
“What,” one to the other saith,
“Sent thee through the doors of death?”—
“While life throbbed in every vein,
For a woman I was slain.
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poem by Victor James Daley
Added by Poetry Lover
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