Oct 2015
The Century is dead
Lifeless remains for all to see
Death is entombed in nature's head
The howling air wails in it's flee
The lifeblood no longer flows
It's primordial spring gushed with its essence
Now sapped, arid, bare, a barren hose
We, now bodies, echo hope's absence.
Lifeless remains for all to see
Death is entombed in nature's head
The howling air wails in it's flee
The lifeblood no longer flows
It's primordial spring gushed with its essence
Now sapped, arid, bare, a barren hose
We, now bodies, echo hope's absence.
This is my reworded version of Thomas Hardy's second stanza in his poem, " The Darkling Thrush"
Hope you liked it ( I don't normally do rhymes but I tried)
Hope you liked it ( I don't normally do rhymes but I tried)
