Soundless Rest.

After hearing Ravel's "Pavan to a Dead Princess."

How pale, whiter than white are your lips, shaping
Now not a word, immovable, soundlessly making
Their roundness even more ground into my heart.
Your lovely long tresses coiled, unsoiled and parted
With fine ever-straight line above primrose-soft face
Unwrinkled, once pink now ever remaining a babe's.
Those feel-of-rosebud hands laid so sweetly beneath
The shroud, why did you leave dear child, impeach
All my hopes and dreams, the most gentle of access
To paradise lay in your smile, now sleeping princess
The pavan will be dancing you soon into a soundless
Rest but I restive remain, and will always be bounded
To pain in not saying final goodbyes but crying adieu
I have to await the yet uncreated, my life without you