- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Elegy on the Death of Spring
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Oh spring, I mourn for thee
Thy bosom stabbed by winter’s icy dagger
For thou had come into thy season
And thy fragrant budding had begun
In beauty and gentleness.
Just when all seemed perfection
I awoke to nary a bird’s song,
And the once warm sun breeze
Had grown cold as death,
And winter had shaken off his vanquishing.
He had buried thy new born greenery
Under his shroud of gray-white debauchery,
And thy rose, frozen
Thy beauty, diminished.
Oh winter thou murderer of all things lovely!
Thou beast without reason or sensibility!
I implore thee to peel back thy cold blanket.
I beg thee to forsake thy chilly intents,
And allow seasons to change as they must
Under the hills of men and the stars of God.
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