dots-menu
×

Home  »  The New Poetry  »  To Celia

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

To Celia

By Witter Bynner

II. During a Chorale by Cesar Franck

IN an old chamber softly lit

We heard the Chorale played,

And where you sat, an exquisite

Image of Life and lover of it,

Death sang a serenade.

I know now, Celia, what you heard,

And why you turned and smiled.

It was the white wings of a bird

Offering flight, and you were stirred

Like an adventurous child.

Death sang: “Oh, lie upon your bier,

Uplift your countenance!”

Death bade me be your cavalier,

Called me to march and shed no tear,

But sing to you and dance.

And when you followed, lured and led

By those mysterious wings,

And when I heard that you were dead,

I could not weep. I sang instead,

As a true lover sings.

……

Today a room is softly lit;

I hear the Chorale played.

And where you come, an exquisite

Image of Death and lover of it,

Life sings a serenade.