Explore "The Dead Lover" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I tire of lovely faces free from pain / And free from sin; / Here none with lips wet with the crimson stain / May enter in. / One thing I lack, and lacking it, am dead -- / A woman's heart. / "She cannot enter here," an angel said; / I will depart.
I have one prayer that I will make to God, / That I may stay / Where lies my body underneath the sod. / Then night and day / I shall be where my dear false love may pass; / It will be sweet / To hear above my head, upon the grass, / Her little feet.