Dread
The song that feigns to be a slave in deed
To mourn the life that ousts the face of peace
That sad bells peal with tears of those who grieve
And bow their heads to those who fear to cease
To choose the weight of ton and gloom of ache
To lay in watch to mark the clock rush slow
The pang of rail, the strike of steel to take
With one foot in the pit of grave song's woe
The sun has but to trade the dark to light
But lost and fixed its loft clings far too high
As cold and cloud has barred its melt from sight
To hold this heart with bleak sad chill to cry
Bound and caged it pens its last sad good bye
To spare this soul of dread to spurn or die!
September 29, 2019
Copyright © Lonna Blodgett | Year Posted 2019
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