Still-heart / Frank Pearce Sturm

Still-heart
Dread are the death-pale kings Who bend to the oar, Dread is the voice that sings On the starless shore, Lamentations and woes: Cold on the wave Beautiful Still-heart goes To the rock-hewn grave. The limbs are bound, and the breasts That I kissed are cold; Beautiful Still-heart rests With the queens of old.