Dark Madonna of the grave she rests;
Lord Death has found her sweet.
Her mother pawned her wedding ring
To lay her out in white;
She’d be so proud she’d dance and sing
to see herself tonight.
Similar Posts
Then call me traitor if you must,
Say I betray a sacred trustAching beyond this vault.I’ll bear your censure as your praise,For never shall the clanConfine my singing to its waysBeyond the ways of man.No racial option narrows grief,Pain is not patriot,And sorrow plaits her dismal leafFor all as lief as not.With blind sheep groping every hill,Searching an oriflamme,How shall the shpherd…
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;I hide no hate; I am not even wrothWho found the earth’s breath so keen and cold;I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,And laid them away in a box of gold.
They in their cruel traps, and we in ours,
Commiserating each the other’s woe,To mitigate his own pain’s fiery glow.Man could but little proffer in exchangeSave that his cages have a larger range.That lion with his lordly, untamed heartHas in some man his human counterpart,Some lofty soul in dreams and visions wrapped,But in the stifling flesh securely trapped.Gaunt eagle whose raw pinions stain the…
Youth Sings A Song Of Rosebuds
Since men grow diffident at last,And care no whit at all,If spring be come, or the fall be past,Or how the cool rains fall,I come to no flower but I pluck,I raise no cup but I sip,For a mouth is the best of sweets to suck;The oldest wine’s on the lip.If I grow old in…
That bright chimeric beast
Save in the poet’s breast,The white-flanked unicorn,Never may be shakenFrom his solitude;Never may be takenIn any earthly wood.That bird forever feathered,Of its new self the sire,After aeons weathered,Reincarnate by fire,Falcon may not nor eagleSwerve from his eyrie,Nor any crumb inveigleDown to an earthly tree.That fish of the dread regimeInvented to becomeThe fable and the dreamOf…
Never love with all your heart,
And bit by bit to the smallest partThat organ will be breaking.Never love with all your mind,It only ends in fretting;In musing on sweet joys behind,too poignant for forgetting.Never love with all your soul,for such there is no ending;though a mind that frets may find control,and a shattered heart find mending.Give but a grain of…