Virginia E

My dearest Ginny -

It was many and many a year ago, in our cottage by the sea, when you died in close embrace, your still warm face held tightly to me.

Like a mother with wee child, we did together rock, my tears freshly shed, dripp'd heavily atop thy dark locks.

Heaven's angels, envious of our love sublime, with pretended piety, plotted to take thee to God's kingdom for all eternity.

How great my lament when winged seraphs bore you away, whilst I closed up fair flesh in cold crypt where such torment led my soul astray.

How I pled with God that night to return Virginia E to me, thy spirit to tarry while I lay cold abed clinging to what remain'd of thee.

Demon moans and angel tears rose out of solemn wind, death's voice cried out loudly from his dark throne, whilst my heart perish'd all alone.

How I keened in the hour when thou died, with plenteous kiss bestowed upon thy pale brow; woe the day I lost my childhood bride.

Rise up! Rise up! Like Lazarus, come forth my love; descend from thy bower in the heavens, and return upon white wings like a dove!

But no rays from holy Heaven deigned shine upon our lonely cottage by the sea, nor dove alight, nor spirit bright bring any word from thee.

The seasons come and seasons go, the cruel wind howling through our cottage by the sea, ever calling for Virginia E.

Awake laid I in the twilight gloaming, searching for my lost consort, but your ship appear'd not, nor return'd home to its welcoming port.

I begged the moon in its wane to gleam once more mournfully and with it carry dreams from days long past when I clasped thee to me ever tightly.

To see again thy gay smile, even if only at rest, my pillow a chariot to wing me to Heaven's gates, where I will for you await.

O God! O God! Can I not hold you in my embrace whilst I weep and feel your treasured breath once more upon my wet cheeks?

How I plead with God to return Virginia E to me, my prayers arising unanswered in the cold night air, crying out for your love so fair.

Do you yet hear the roar of the surf-tormented shore or remember how the wet sands slid through your toes, then rushed away in their deathly throes?

Of thee only such memories remain, like a dream within a dream, thy voice no more than a haunted whisper in the breeze.

But days turn to weeks and months to years, and my heart recovers not, my love never dimming nor the blessing of time salve for bitter tears.

Our cottage by the sea a place of unending mourning, I must away and carry my grief to faraway shores and remove the memory of my undoing.

Thy lovely face and voice live on only in me, the cruel wind howling through our cottage by the sea, ever calling for my Virginia E.

No wine nor brandy shalt rob me the memory of thy lips, nor solace can I seek, nor face however fair thy love eclipse.

Memories of thee hold all former joys captive, my soul doth find itself alone, all thoughts fixed on the poesy to carve on our tombstone.

Be still, O my soul, silent in seclusion, the spirits of the dead have return'd, as in life, now in death to old familiar haunts, all Hell revives my strife.

I tremble with fear, a fever burns in my crestfallen brow when coldly beckons thou, my desire to live yet greater than desire to follow.

How I pled with God to return Virginia E on the night her wraith appear'd to me, her ragged windings fluttering cruelly.

These thoughts I dare not banish, this visitation, this warning, this premonition like the wind that once called thee and now calls for me.

O breeze –the very breath of God– how it chills flesh and bone in my poor bed clothes, how ruinous foul this troubling call.

The night, now enemy mine, its twinkling lights stillborn, the stars I no longer behold, their once glorious thrones empty and forlorn.

No solace greets me across the starless miles, thy far-flung sun frozen and amber, I can live no longer without the sheen of thy bright smile.

But no matter where I rest my weary brow, Somnus tames not my misery nor stills my lips from calling out for thou!

What dread gifts do thou bear for me now in the still of the midnight hour, what terrors and latent joys carry thee from thy hidden bower?

Some call it hope, but it is but agony to my bruised desire, even if thou solicit me still, beckoning me to follow thee to Heaven's gates or fire.

Shall not Hell make me fear my end all the more or still the endless craving in this heart for the theft of thy flowering?

But never shalt I forget, I swear with terrible oaths, the haloed brightness of our sweet summer hours!

The seasons come and seasons go, the cruel wind howling through our cottage by the sea, ever calling for Virginia E.

In my fever I cry out at last for thee, more than crime to dare this dream; can thou yet hear me, love, and rescue from the mire of my sickly seam?

Death is near, I hear again its dread voice in the moaning of the breeze; I had not thought without tears of thee whom in life was everything to me.

My heart beats heavily in my breast, at the twelfth chime of the bells, thy apparition motioning to follow thee into Heaven or very Hell.

But when the storm had broke and I awoke in a leap of sudden faith, my spirit finally beckon'd in return to thy pale wraith.

Panting with fear, I lie abed writing a last letter to thee, and so let he who finds bury as keepsake between me and Virginia E.

A million times will I kiss thee. Fear not, I am coming!

E.A.P.