The hours between washing and the well Of burial are the soul’s most troubled time.

I sat with her in keeping company All through the affliction of the night, keeping

Soul constant, a second self. Earth is heavy And I made no wish, save being

Merely magical. I am magical No more. This, I well remember well.

In the sweet thereafter the impress Of the senses will be tattooed to

The whole world ravelling in the clemency Of an autumn of Octobers, all that bounty

Bountiful and the oaks specifically Afire as everything dies off, inclining

To the merciful. I would have made of my body A body to protect her, anything to keep

Her well & here–in the soul’s suite Before five tons of earth will bear

On her, stay here Soul, in the good night of my company.