The Skull

O BOWL that held the hot imprisoned fire,
Cup where the sacred essence used to burn—
That fluent essence that shall ne’er return—
Old home of Aspiration and Desire:
What art thou now to honour and admire?
A thing inconsequential one might spurn,
Thou art not e’en the scattered ashes’ urn;—
Husk of the spirit that shall not expire.

Thou cage and shell of ancient busy Thought,
Nurse-house of Soul, the domicile of him
Long fled thy osseous walls that Nature wrought
To please proud Time’s caprice and passing whim;
’Twixt two eternities a moment caught,
He rose from thee to join the seraphim.

by Mary E Fullerton

Other poems of MARY E FULLERTON (1)

Comments (1)

one of my favourite poems of today.keep up the superb writing