Poem

To Her Father's Lover

Wonders seek way from hard, heartless tones
and stronger strangling laws that bid me stare
as weight of sleep hangs on mind twice depressed:
my only love lay on her father's chest.

I stare, blame, with all futile strength
espoused to filmsy flames of some sealed settled woe
betide. Twice reclined moan. She's laid there spread:
it confounds thought from lately tired head.

What do I say when sand fills the mouth
and rote replaced by nods to earlier claims?
Drum rolls away for the dark drapes drawn
to fast forestall a well deserved dawn!

You talk of love, despise my noble fear
to rid this smell since now more tears appear.