TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Dead Child. by Charles Hamilton Musgrove

Life to her was a perfect flower,
And every petal a jeweled hour,
Till all at once–we know not why–
God sent a frost from His clear blue sky.

Life to her was a fairy rune;
Her light feet tripped to the lilting tune,
Till all at once–we know not why–
God stopped th’ enchanting melody.

Life to her was a picture book
That her glad eyes searched with eager look
Till all at once–we know not why–
God put the wondrous volume by.

by CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE (1871-1926)
Public Domain Poetry

beneath the burnt out sky

a black-clad harridan sits in the parvis
gazes into the dark sky with watery eyes
knobby yellow fingers stick out from mittens
like tilted candles on the requiem stone

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2019