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The Wreckage of the Tomb
I thought I saw the sea of death
curling over the sighing horizon
and swiftly did The Dark Mortality catch
the shift in the lee of stark dover-cliffs.
Sad were the thoughts then, as the sloop
approached me, shredded sails patched
with Hades-magic,
the bow a figurehead of Persephone.
I have written my own tale in the sand
and unlike Ianthe I have no
loving poet to imortalize me.
the footprints in slushy-sand are
swiftling carried away by the
lapping liquid.
So I went on that veiled ship
that so cradled and shackled me
and in the tumulous light of shadow and
shade - to all that I did or have never done
I bayed goodnight.
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I have been reading too much classic poetry lately. This was inspired by (1) all the poems entitled Ianthe or about Ianthe, and (2) by Hood's The Sea of Death. Check it out if you like poetry from the 1800s.
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