Hymn To Priapus

My love lies underground     With her face upturned to mine,     And her mouth unclosed in a last long kiss     That ended her life and mine.     I dance at the Christmas party     Under the mistletoe     Along with a ripe, slack country lass     Jostling to and fro.     The big, soft country lass,     Like a loose sheaf of wheat     Slipped through my arms on the threshing floor     At my feet.     The warm, soft country lass,     Sweet as an armful of wheat     At threshing-time broken, was broken     For me, and ah, it was sweet!     Now I am going home     Fulfilled and alone,     I see the great Orion standing     Looking down.     He's the star of my first beloved     Love-making.     The witness of all that bitter-sweet     Heart-aching.     Now he sees this as well,     This last commission.     Nor do I get any look     Of admonition.     He can add the reckoning up     I suppose, between now and then,     Having walked himself in the thorny, difficult     Ways of men.     He has done as I have done     No doubt:     Remembered and forgotten     Turn and about.     My love lies underground     With her face upturned to mine,     And her mouth unclosed in the last long kiss     That ended her life and mine.     She fares in the stark immortal     Fields of death;     I in these goodly, frozen     Fields beneath.     Something in me remembers     And will not forget.     The stream of my life in the darkness     Deathward set!     And something in me has forgotten,     Has ceased to care.     Desire comes up, and contentment     Is debonair.     I, who am worn and careful,     How much do I care?     How is it I grin then, and chuckle     Over despair?     Grief, grief, I suppose and sufficient     Grief makes us free     To be faithless and faithful together     As we have to be.