SPARSE mists of moonlight hurt our eyes With gouged and scourged uncertainties Of soul and soil in agonies. One derelict grim skeleton That drench and dry had battened on Still seemed to wish us malison; Still zipped across the gouts of lead Or cracked like whipcracks overhead; The gray rags fluttered on the dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAYS OF TIME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES MOTLEY by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE FRAILTY OF MAN'S LIFE by PHILIP AYRES IN MEMORY OF DOCTOR DONNE by R. B. IN MEMORIAM, NINTH OF AB by BEN AVROM MY DEMAND by MARION L. BERTRAND |