Sonnet beginning & ending with a line from Merwin

I think always of you waiting

Though why this should be I don’t know

The strange vague esteem of the living

Imagining the dead have nothing more to do

Than hunger after their time on earth —

The kisses, the rifts, those indifferences, those whims —

All the range that once was feeling’s surfeit

That, memoried in the light of death, seems