Tag Archives: sometimes i think we poets obsess too much on grim death

Sometimes I Think We Poets Obsess Too Much On Grim Death

Sometimes I think we poets obsess
Too much on grim death.
We hear the blackbird sing
And say “the flowers that bloom
In spring,
And this bird, so full of joy,
Time will destroy,
All too soon”.

We obsess
Over the maid
In her white
And say, “she will fade
Into the eternal night”.

Yet there is much delight
In the maid,
And when, into the night
Poet and maid
They may leave to posterity,
More than poetry.