Explore "The Bride of Huitzil" by Hervey Allen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And no one dared awake the king -- / He slept -- to him it seemed / White vapor covered everything, / And through its rifts there gleamed / A figure striding through the mist; / Dimly he saw the head, / The white skull set with turquoise stones, / The goddess of the dead.
Now at the hour before the dawn, / When owlets cease to call, / He put a cloak of black skins on / And walked forth from the hall, / Across the terrace, down the stair, / Along an empty street, / Where the lone watchman felt his hair / Rise at the soundless feet. / But to the dying king it seemed / As though he moved with ease / Upon a journey he had dreamed -- / No weight above his knees -- / So from his house he passed away, / Down to the stony strand / Where the black water of the lake / Whimpered against the land. / And there he hailed a boatman dim / Who gave a toothless scream / And motioned to wade out to him; / Cold as a mountain stream / He felt the lake rise to his chin; / It seemed to strike him through / And freeze his heart -- but he plunged in, / And clutched the black canoe.