Tuesday, May 28

O, April! O, May!


O, April! O, May!
Must You two thus slay
My fond brethren, my
Kin and certainly
You will me too slay
And my progeny?

My birth in your home-
Almost- it does come
As destiny's curse,
Or worse, most perverse
That I should be dead
On the day I'm bred!

One by one like gifts
As if on work-shifts
News came of the ends
Of kin and of friends
And I looked at you,
May, blazing and you,
O, pitiless months!

Why? O, Why be there
Witness of despair?
Why not retire
And let time hire
Two kinder sentry
With hearts of pity
And of compassion.

And yet I can not
Curse for you are mirth
And bright sun's laughter
And joy-mass after
Long and cold winter
Has congealed the blood.

O, April, 
O, May!



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