Poem

A Meeting


Within that nameless realm where Dead meet Dead
I met that one through whom my life was banned,
Who gave for love fierce hate.
So wan the eyes, reflecting eyes as wan,
I reached my hand to clasp the outstreached hand
And touched-but icy air!
‘Alas! ’ I said: ‘Alas! Alas! poor shade! ’
And he: ‘Alas! Alas! poor shade! ’ he said.

Ina D. Coolbrith


E-mail this poem to e friend

• Send this poem as eCard

• Add this poem to MyPoemList

• Print friendly version