The Silly
A body floated against him, as he waded
Through the roaring darkness of the flooded drift:
He clutched at the close-cropped head; but it evaded
His icy fingers. . . . And, though he was one of the saved,
He never was fit to go on another shift;
For always at nightfall, the father muttered and raved
Of his son who'd perished — I clutched at the hair of his head ,
But the silly dodged me ... and so he was drowned — he said.
Through the roaring darkness of the flooded drift:
He clutched at the close-cropped head; but it evaded
His icy fingers. . . . And, though he was one of the saved,
He never was fit to go on another shift;
For always at nightfall, the father muttered and raved
Of his son who'd perished — I clutched at the hair of his head ,
But the silly dodged me ... and so he was drowned — he said.
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