WINTER PROPHECIES
Cities with tall and graceful spires I know
Mirrored in pools and rivers silver bright,
That wither if the softest wind should blow
And by a stone are blotted out of sight.
Frailer they are than curvèd leaves of snow
Fluttering down from the dark trees of night
Slowly, and then unutterably slow,
And ceasing as most quietly comes the light.
Water is carved like fern and stone takes on
The flush of life when flesh lies quiet as stone;
Whilst sinister and clownish, bright and wan,
With solemn affectations the old Moon
Spins dooms and weirds and meltings of the bone
And universal silence to be soon.
Transcriber’s Notes
Simple typographical errors were corrected.
Page [2]: “fourm” was printed that way.
Pages [53–57]: The poems of Frank Prewett are untitled except in the Table of Contents, so two consecutive blank lines are the only visible boundaries between them in some versions of this eBook.