Sunday, November 22, 2015

A Winter’s Tale

Lonely word, I see by the lines in your face
a life to grace a novel paragraph;

Lonely man, I see by the words in your face
the lines to grace a tragic epitaph;

Lonely muse, I see by the light in your face
the poem you now waste on poor William;

Be it such and so; yet praise the naked limb
that calls him out to sing as best he can.

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