The Shroud
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eath, I say, my heart is bowedUnto thine,--O mother!This red gown will make a shroudGood as any other! (I, that would not wait to wearMy own bridal things,In a dress dark as my hairMade my answerings. I, to-night, that till he cameCould not, could not wait,In a gown as bright as flameHeld for them the gate.) Death, I say, my heart is bowedUnto thine,--O mother!This red gown will make a shroudGood as any other!
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