Two Epitaphs
FOR CHARLOTTE BRONTË IN HAWORTH CHURCH YARD
The children of my fiery heart and brain
Endure, created, like the wind and rain
Imperishably wild.
But near this stone, and in this iron air,
I died, because my body could not bear
A mortal child.
ON A PET
Florence has lost her joy, her marmoset.
No more those bright world-penetrating eyes
Peer from the sacred cavern of her muff,
Two jewels closely set.
Un-nibbled now the sugared cherry lies,
November sleet whips through the northern skies,
The tiny tropic heart has throbbed enough.
The children of my fiery heart and brain
Endure, created, like the wind and rain
Imperishably wild.
But near this stone, and in this iron air,
I died, because my body could not bear
A mortal child.
ON A PET
Florence has lost her joy, her marmoset.
No more those bright world-penetrating eyes
Peer from the sacred cavern of her muff,
Two jewels closely set.
Un-nibbled now the sugared cherry lies,
November sleet whips through the northern skies,
The tiny tropic heart has throbbed enough.
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