Robert Nye
Compline
Born into a world already dead
The funeral bores us with its brilliant doom;
Yet being jealous not to let our shadows
Fall in the grave, we kneel as is seemly
And do not grin overmuch behind clasped hands,
For some of us pray the resurrection, when it comes,
Will not be irresistible, nor define all the neighbours.
Page(s) 32
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