A Mammon-Marriage.

The croak of a raven hoar!         A dog's howl, kennel-tied!     Loud shuts the carriage-door:         The two are away on their ghastly ride     To Death's salt shore!     Where are the love and the grace?         The bridegroom is thirsty and cold!     The bride's skull sharpens her face!         But the coachman is driving, jubilant, bold,     The devil's pace.     The horses shivered and shook         Waiting gaunt and haggard     With sorry and evil look;         But swift as a drunken wind they staggered     'Longst Lethe brook.     Long since, they ran no more;         Heavily pulling they died     On the sand of the hopeless shore         Where never swelled or sank a tide,     And the salt burns sore.     Flat their skeletons lie,         White shadows on shining sand;     The crusted reins go high         To the crumbling coachman's bony hand     On his knees awry.     Side by side, jarring no more,         Day and night side by side,     Each by a doorless door,         Motionless sit the bridegroom and bride     On the Dead-Sea-shore.