incline
The fire-trench curls in the
trough.
Joy cannot see it—it's in the bed
Of a river of poison that brims
instead.
He can only hear—a cough!
NOTHING to do for the
Companies there—
Nothing but waiting now,
incline
The fire-trench curls in the
trough.
Joy cannot see it—it's in the bed
Of a river of poison that brims
instead.
He can only hear—a cough!
NOTHING to do for the
Companies there—
Nothing but waiting now,