I looked into my new love’s eyes,
And kissed her lips, her brow, her hair,
(And thought of a neglected grave,
And one who loved me, lying there.)
I held my new love close and warm,
And satisfied her with sweet lies;
(And all the time she looked at me
From out her grave, with straining eyes.)
My new love’s hair is black as night,
And her full pulses beat and beat;
(Her hair was like the sunset’s gold!
It must have grown down to her feet.)
My new love’s throat is slim and white,
And twined about with warm, soft fur;
(How that poor throat must ache and choke,
Sobbing to call me back to her!)
My new love’s heart is strong with life,
And leaping fires therein are hid,
(God! how that other passionate heart
Must beat to burst its coffin lid!)
“Verily, the Dead are Avenged” printed in an unidentified publication. Clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.