Sombre Sonnet

I love all sombre and autumnal things, Regal and mournful and funereal, Things strange and curious and majestical, Whereto a solemn savor of death clings:

Coerulian serpents mark'd with azure rings; Awful cathedrals where rich shadows fall; Hoarse symphonies sepulchral as a pall; Mad crimes adorn'd with bestial blazonings.

Therefore I love thee more than aught that dies, Within whose subtile beauty slumbereth The twain solemnity of life and death;

Therefore I sit beside thee far from day And look into thy holy eyes alway, Thy desolate eyes, thine unillumin'd eyes.