Waiting
More still than death That waits a thousand years In a new-ploughed field Of up-turned bones;
So will I wait for you A thousand years.
Alice Corbin Henderson
More still than death That waits a thousand years In a new-ploughed field Of up-turned bones;
So will I wait for you A thousand years.
The speaker promises to wait for someone with a stillness that surpasses even death. They imagine death itself lying motionless for a thousand years in a freshly ploughed field that churns up old bones.
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