Farewell
In the drear tortures of remember,
So lonely, melancholy,
As if the smolder of a single ember
Could invoke her naturally;
He would take an exaggerated draw
Hoping his heart may unthaw,
Or that silence would unhinge its jaw
From the hush which is the past.
He cursed the onset of dear December
With its forced courtesies and song,
For he was not a member
As no apostate should belong.
The blue hung on the snow-kissed trees,
And its notes imbued the icy breeze,
And its weakness burrowed in his knees
Until he felt almost his last.
O’ his eyes search the Heaven
And muttered wish instead of prayer:
For deity Chance has become even
Greater than gods of air.
In manifest, he did climb a cross
That nailed him to a tree of loss,
And her remembrance he did emboss,
With Rayleigh’s scattering, elastic, cast.