Friday, June 13, 2014

A Curse Upon the Poets

Hopewell Rogers -


In truth, old dead, I pray you rose again--
I pray you found, once rain and roots renewed
A mustard tree, a house to revel in,
A feast by mulled camaraderie imbued
(Or, if you tired of the gab of men,
A sylvan path, a stream, some solitude).
But if you died who once could hold a pen:
I wish you—cordially—disquietude.