XXIX. Trying to Forget.

BEREAVED of all, I went abroad,
        No less bereaved to be
Upon a new peninsula, --
        The grave preceded me,

Obtained my lodgings ere myself,
        And when I sought my bed,
The grave it was, reposed upon
        The pillow for my head.

I waked, to find it first awake,
        I rose, -- it followed me;
I tried to drop it in the crowd,
        To lose it in the sea,

In cups of artificial drowse
        To sleep its shape away, --
The grave was finished, but the spade
        Remained in memory.