I walked upon a hill
And the wind, made solemnly drunk with your presence,
Reeled against me.
I stooped to question a flower,
And you floated between my fingers and the petals,
Tying them together.
I severed a leaf from its tree
And a water-drop in the green flagon
Cupped a hunted bit of your smile.
All things about me were steeped in your remembrance
And shivering as they tried to tell me of it.
About this poem
"To One Dead" was first published in Maxwell Bodenheim's book "Minna and Myself" (Pagan, 1918).
About Maxwell Bodenheim
Maxwell Bodenheim was born in 1858 in Hermanville, Miss. He published numerous books of poetry, including "Introducing Irony" and "Returning to Emotion," and was a literary figure in both Chicago and New York during his lifetime. Bodenheim died in New York in 1954.
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.
This poem is in the public domain. Distributed by King Features Syndicate