All Lead


George Bacovia

Death sleeping shells are all of perfect lead,

All lead the haunting bloom and cloth as well—

Just sounds of silent grave the wind would yell

When the undying wraiths cried, all of lead...

I called him, but my dead lover was all lead,

Also the leaden pyre bloom around—

The dead I guarded slept in mirthless sound,

No clay submitting to his wings of lead...

Go Back