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Ars Moriendi

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Below is the poem entitled Ars Moriendi which was written by poet David Smalling. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Ars Moriendi

It is gone from us
Between our fingers like sand
Ars Moriendi

We shall never more
Find purpose or grace for it
Midas immortal

Bartholome stays
In hovels and parliament
The blade shines the sun

O Yeats, it's worse, worse
For gyres multiply like wasps
On the children's eye

The city travails
And in every place you hear
The glass shattering

Something in labour
I can't define its presence
Too cautious my eye

But we shall not find
Not till the hourglass dries, that
Ars Moriendi

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