Mist

The morning dew
caution oh spring
flowers
for the wind is chilly
it'll likely cut your head off
if you are not
careful

the saddest silhouette
is the one the sings the most beautiful song
to an empty field
of desolation
in the far reaches of the abyss
where true meaning lies

the world is devoid of that mist
of pristine sorrow
of real pain and suffering and of
love

Those Winter Sundays - Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.breaking. / When In A Ballad of Remembrance (1962), the line between these two lines reads: "and smell the iron and velvet bloom of heat." While this line was deleted, the version in A Ballad of Remembrance is still a sonnet. There are other variants between both versions; mostly relating to where the line breaks.

Whenbreaking. / When In A Ballad of Remembrance (1962), the line between these two lines reads:"and smell the iron and velvet bloom of heat." While this line was deleted, the version in A Ballad of Remembrance is still a sonnet. There are other variants between both versions; mostly relating to where the line breaks. the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who hadwho had In A Ballad of Remembrance: who’d driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austereaustere Grave, sober; and lacking adornment and lonely offices?


Strong, silent type.....