GREAT GODS.

A YOUNG WOMAN AND THE POSSIBILITIES.

Great gods, Miss Pretty sighs,
Burning her nights with candle deaths,
Signing names, forgotten words,

Making worse the matters done,
Which, being lost in half-dumb shows,
Torment her in her vacant hours.

She has the ghostly figures now.
The viable is not for show.
She has her beauty on a string,

Which, being played for a half a song,
Moves her towards the better things
And all the songs her dead one sings.

Reviews

[Terry Collett]

Old poem of mine revived.