Days

Poem By cheyenne mccartney

Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all.

I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

Comments about Days

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

0,5 out of 5
1 total ratings

Other poems of MCCARTNEY

Angel

Come to me when grief is over,
When the tired eyes,
Seek thy cloudy wings to cover
Close their burning skies.

I Believe

I believe that the sun shines after the rain
I believe if you don't get hurt you'll never gain
I believe in not doing things the easy way
I believe that being selfish doesn't pay

No Return

I like divorce. I love to compose
letters of resignation; now and then
I send one in and leave in a lemon-
hued Huff or a Snit with four on the floor.

To An Athlete Dying Young

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

Time

Was TIME born with all the sky?
Can TIME suffer and also die?
Is TIME flat? Or is TIME round?
Where is TIME? Can TIME be found?

Sonnet 14 - If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Nought

XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say