All Lead
“Death sleepin’ shells are all of perfect lead,
All lead the hauntin’ bloom and cloth, as well –
Just sounds of silent grave the wind would yell
When the undyin’ wreaths cried, all of lead…
I called him, but my dead love was all lead,
Likewise the leaden pyre bloom around –
The dead I guarded slept in mirthless sound,
No clay submittin’ to his wings of lead…”
George Bacovia
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