Bride, bride of full spent earth,

come in your white white gown,

and with your cold white hands

lay your bridegroom down;

bride of fragile floating frame,

lay him under deep,

smother, cover, shut him down,

shut his eyes in sleep.

Bride, bride he’s buried now,

your silver quivers fall in vain,

regret drops tears of piercing ice,

your tempests tear your wedding train;

bride, bride spent in rage,

your vengeance brings you grief,

your white white gown is used and patched,

bridal days are fierce and brief.

For now behold! The bridegroom wakes,

turns and reaches in his thirst,

never knew your double grief,

renewed by death, all deaths he has dispersed;

bride, bride now die to him,

his lover’s clasp is resolute,

and from your April flood of tears

his testimonial seed springs mute.