I weep those dead lips, white and dry, On which no kisses lie, Those eyes deserted of desire, And love’s soft fire. I weep the folded feet and hands,… - Vance Thompson

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I weep those dead lips, white and dry,
On which no kisses lie,
Those eyes deserted of desire,
And love’s soft fire. I weep the folded feet and hands,
Held fast in linen bands;
Still heart, cold breasts—for them my dole:
God hath the soul.