Thoughts On A Grave

Thoughts on a Grave On a grave pondering A Poet Seer touched his chin rested on it for he weary for he was tired for he had swam up and down hither and thither in the river of life So many times the current carried him away and far! So many times he sighed to retreat to the womb whence he emerged! Life is that: when things be sad then in as direct proportion resignation becomes medicine To think to fear to look with a vague look and hear the silence walk in chains right after you. Tonight the glow-worms gather round without a sound yet their lights betray them gathering. No thoughts as usual. But new thoughts. The old thoughts he closed off harsh as falling guillotines. And the tomb meanwhile basked in the moon light insipid and still yet awe-inspiring! Even the fool becomes wise here Even the fool wiser becomes the more here he stays. Behind I saw a troupe of goblins green and in the back ground helter skelter grey passing of ghosts and shrouds a motley crowd. I thought not on the inhabitants of the graves For I prefer in cemeteries not to think of the inhabitants of graves yet be with them. A Speaking Yew A speaking yew in the cemetery stood up and high solitary and sad solitary in solitary nights sentinel and guard of honor to nocturnal lights and groaning of the ghosts and shrouds and the creaking of tombs opening by mid-night to let restless Souls to pace and vent Preferable so. Midnight and night together shrouded in conspiracy whispering walk up the cemetery roads the restless Souls by till Dawn and light.