BARCAROLE ON THE STYX
Fair youth with the rose at your lips,
A riddle is hid in your eyes;
Discard conversational quips,
Give over elaborate disguise.
The rose’s funeral breath
Confirms by intuitive fears;
To prove your devotion, Sir Death,
Avaunt for a dozen of years.
But do not forget to array
Your terror in juvenile charms;
I shall deeply regret my delay
If I sleep in a skeleton’s arms.
(Elinor Wylie)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Fear PoemsBased on Keywords: quips, avaunt, styx, juvenile, elaborate, discard, confirms, intuitive, barcarole, conversational