Only thy dust...

Only thy dust is here, thy dust?
but when chill May uncloses
her petal and is June, I feel
a heartbeat shake the roses.

Earth and the sun were sweet to us,
green grass and brooks and laughter?
and I cannot think of thee a ghost
within some strange herafter.

Dawn and the hills were glad of us,
tossed corn and windy meadows?
and I should not know thee as a shade,
pallid among pale shadows.

Stars and streams were friends to us,
clear skies and wintry weather?
and it was not wraith and wraith with us,
but flesh and blood together.

Only the dust of thee is here?
but when mine own day closes
I will lie down beside thee, love,
and mingle with thy roses.

~ Don Marquis