A Church
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
0
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A church.
Small chapel.
Mantles of snow
One on the other
As
Wave on wave.
In the frozen yard
A patch of red -
The devil so-called.
More stark
More noticed
There
Amongst the white
Of congealed snows.
And he was humming -
‘Why? Why? '
His face was wry -
‘Why do they call
Me devil? '
A small violet
Raised its head
Out of the snows
As by magic
Sprouted:
And
Said the violet:
‘Every thing has
A name.
Yours that.
Accept it'
Then
Chin hand
Philosophically thinking
The devil spoke:
‘Then I am resigned.
That be my name
Let it stick to me.'
And
From the churchyard
Jumped he.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş