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A Face In The Street Post by :WCarmier Category :Poems Author :George Parsons Lathrop Date :July 2011 Read :2375

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A Face In The Street

Poor, withered face, that yet was once so fair,
Grown ashen-old in the wild fires of lust--
Thy star-like beauty, dimm'd with earthly dust,
Yet breathing of a purer native air;--
They who whilom, cursed vultures, sought a share
Of thy dead womanhood, their greed unjust
Have satisfied, have stripped and left thee bare.
Still, like a leaf warped by the autumn gust,
And driving to the end, thou wrapp'st in flame
And perfume all thy hollow-eyed decay,
Feigning on those gray cheeks the blush that Shame
Took with her when she fled long since away.
Ah God! rain fire upon this foul-souled city
That gives such death, and spares its men,--for pity!

(The end)
George Parsons Lathrop's poem: Face In The Street

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Burial-song For Sumner Burial-song For Sumner

Burial-song For Sumner
Now the last wreath of snow That melts, in mist exhalesWhite aspiration, and our deep-voiced galesIn chorus chant the measured march of spring, Whom griefs of life and death Are burdening! Slow, slow-- With half-held breath--Tread slow, O mourners, that all men may know What hero here lies low! O music, sweep

Grief's Hero Grief's Hero

Grief's Hero
A youth unto herself Grief took,Whom everything of joy forsook,And men passed with denying head,Saying: "'T were better he were dead."Grief took him, and with master-touchMolded his being. I marveled muchTo see her magic with the clay,So much she gave--and took away.Daily she wrought, and her designGrew daily clearer and more fine,To make the beauty of his shapeServe for the spirit's free escape.With liquid fire she filled his eyes.She graced his lips with swift surmiseOf sympathy for others' woe,And made his every fibre flowIn fairer curves. On brow and chinAnd tinted cheek, drawn clean and thin,She sculptured records rich, great Grief!She