The Lychwake

by | May 4, 2013 | Poetry | 0 comments

I sat upon the well-worn steps
The organist played- as if for me
The world complete in harmony…
Though growing cold the sun would shine
And Life, it seemed, a thing sublime.
The gathering silence in the wall
An ominous darkness comes to fall.
‘The body of a young soldier’s found
A mother’s told her son has drowned.
The beauty, of the birds in song
Seems dull when all our hopes have gone.’
Too little time, too much to do
The ifs, and buts, tormenting you.
How, once, they sang, danced and played
The five little sisters in their grave-
When churchbells in their sorrow rang
Their lychwake where the living sang.
Now, day comes drawing to its close
The wind through church and lychgate blows.


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