Saturday, March 21, 2009

Lead (Plumb) by George Bacovia

The coffins of lead were lying sound asleep,

And the lead flowers and the funeral clothes -

I stood alone in the vault... and there was wind...

And the wreaths of lead creaked.

Upturned my lead beloved lay asleep

On the lead flower... and I began to call -

I stood alone by the corpse... and it was cold...

And the wings of lead drooped.


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