Sonnet Xlviii: Death-In-Love

There came an image in Life's retinue That had Love's wings and bore his gonfalon: Fair was the web, and nobly wrought thereon, O soul-sequestered face, thy form and hue! Bewildering sounds, such as Spring wakens to, Shook in its folds; and through my heart its power Sped trackless as the immemorable hour When birth's dark portal groaned and all was new. But a veiled woman followed, and she caught The banner round its staff, to furl and cling,— Then plucked a feather from the bearer's wing And held it to his lips that stirred it not, And said to me, “Behold, there is no breath: I and this Love are one, and I am Death.”