Good-Bye

The last of last words spoken is, Good-bye -
The last dismantled flower in the weed-grown hedge,
The last thin rumour of a feeble bell far ringing,
The last blind rat to spurn the mildewed rye.

A hardening darkness glasses the haunted eye,
Shines into nothing the watcher's burnt-out candle,
Wreathes into scentless nothing the wasting incense,
Faints in the outer silence the hunting-cry.

Love of its muted music breathes no sigh,
Thought in her ivory tower gropes in her spinning,
Toss on in vain the whispering trees of Eden,
Last of all last words spoken is, Good-bye.

by Walter de la Mare

Comments (2)

MICHAEL...A WORK OF MASTERFUL VERSE IN TRUE...YOU HAVE A BROAD SPECTRUM OF TALENT, MICHAEL & MUCH TO MESSAGE OF VIRTUOUS WORTH...I KNOW THAT YOUARE AWARE OF IT...BUT IT IS TRULY NICE TO HEAR IT ANYWAY: YOU'VE GOT THE GIFT THAT MILLIONS WANT, BUT THAT SO FEW RECIEVE, AND FEWER MASTER...KEEP IN TOUCH, MY FRIEND FRANK
well writen poem, Geoff would comment but he had to go have a cold shower.