![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i found this poem in a really obscure book i managed to track down. it's depressing and dark and wonderful... =)
Twelve months ago I came here as
A young and blushing bride.
This handsome man had chosen me,
And I'd stand by his side.
'Fore gods and men, I took the vow
To love him faithfully,
But a year has passed; I'm virgin still;
My husband wants, but wants not me.
'Twas on our wedding night he said
He loved his first wife still.
Her death had left a void behind
Which I could never fill.
"This house is thine, and all within,
Do with it as you may,
But my bed I cannot share with you."
And so, alone, that night I lay.
She is gone, but not forgotten,
And she haunts my husband's hall,
And her portrait smiles sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears her footsteps in the night
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows she's buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
I thought to give him time to grieve,
And patiently I'd wait.
Then welcome him back to my arms
And truly be his mate.
But time has passed, and here I lie,
A wife in naught but name:
The seasons come, the seasons go,
But winter in his heart remains.
I fancied I'd a lover take,
But 'twas a foolish whim,
For as his heart is bound to her,
So I cleave unto him.
There's none can stir me as he did
When courting me so fair;
But, oh gods, dear gods, it's killing me,
And my soul is lost unto despair.
She is gone, but not forgotten,
And she haunts my husband's hall,
And her portrait smiles sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears her footsteps in the night
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows she's buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
There is no anguish like the pain
Of loneliness in bed.
He scorns the warmness of his wife
And yearns but for the dead.
And celebrations hollow ring,
For distant is mine host,
And my ladies slyly laugh at me,
And they say I'm jealous of a ghost.
The first snow of the year has come
And lies like feathers white.
And from atop this parapet
Shall I fly down this night.
For though it is a fall indeed,
The flagstones are but down --
And surely soft white snow I'll hit
Instead of cold and stony ground.
We are gone, but not forgotten,
And we haunt our husband's hall,
And our portraits smile sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears our footsteps in the night,
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows we're buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
Christie Golden
Twelve months ago I came here as
A young and blushing bride.
This handsome man had chosen me,
And I'd stand by his side.
'Fore gods and men, I took the vow
To love him faithfully,
But a year has passed; I'm virgin still;
My husband wants, but wants not me.
'Twas on our wedding night he said
He loved his first wife still.
Her death had left a void behind
Which I could never fill.
"This house is thine, and all within,
Do with it as you may,
But my bed I cannot share with you."
And so, alone, that night I lay.
She is gone, but not forgotten,
And she haunts my husband's hall,
And her portrait smiles sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears her footsteps in the night
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows she's buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
I thought to give him time to grieve,
And patiently I'd wait.
Then welcome him back to my arms
And truly be his mate.
But time has passed, and here I lie,
A wife in naught but name:
The seasons come, the seasons go,
But winter in his heart remains.
I fancied I'd a lover take,
But 'twas a foolish whim,
For as his heart is bound to her,
So I cleave unto him.
There's none can stir me as he did
When courting me so fair;
But, oh gods, dear gods, it's killing me,
And my soul is lost unto despair.
She is gone, but not forgotten,
And she haunts my husband's hall,
And her portrait smiles sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears her footsteps in the night
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows she's buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
There is no anguish like the pain
Of loneliness in bed.
He scorns the warmness of his wife
And yearns but for the dead.
And celebrations hollow ring,
For distant is mine host,
And my ladies slyly laugh at me,
And they say I'm jealous of a ghost.
The first snow of the year has come
And lies like feathers white.
And from atop this parapet
Shall I fly down this night.
For though it is a fall indeed,
The flagstones are but down --
And surely soft white snow I'll hit
Instead of cold and stony ground.
We are gone, but not forgotten,
And we haunt our husband's hall,
And our portraits smile sweetly
From the cold and stony wall.
And he hears our footsteps in the night,
And he starts at every sound,
Even though he knows we're buried 'neath
Six feet of cold and stony ground.
Christie Golden
