Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam
Most individual and bewildering ghost!
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.