Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


SPELLS OF THE DEATHWAY by FRANK WILMOT

First Line: A TROUBLE OF FLOWER-MURMURS CRUSHED BETWEEN
Last Line: SITS WITH FAINT SMILES AND COUNTS OLD MEMORIES.

A TROUBLE of flower-murmurs crushed between
The tumult of low gales; white, broken wings
Of eagles ventureless; abandonings
That trail their echoes through the might have been!
The cloud-frail monuments of love serene
Melting in dusk; the aimless flutterings
Of moths in wonder; songs that twilight brings;
The muffled lake-waves lapping at the green.

Hours lived, desires accomplished, music lost,
Mild wishes and impassionate farewells;
Deserted paths and faded dreams of these!
Oh, what a world! Here ghost meets brother ghost
And, unprotesting, murdered by the spells,
Sits with faint smiles and counts old memories.



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