Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
1
God's counsel columnar-severe┬░
But chaptered in the chief of bliss┬░
Had always doomed her down to this —
Pressed to death . He plants the year;
The weighty weeks without hands grow,
Heaved drum on drum; but hands also
Must deal with Margaret Clitheroe.
2
The very victim would prepare.
Like water soon to be sucked in
Will crisp itself or settle and spin┬░
So she: one sees that here and there
She mends the way she means to go.
The last thing Margaret's fingers sew
Is a shroud for Margaret Clitheroe.
3
The Christ-ed beauty of her mind
Her mould of features mated well.
She was admired. The spirit of hell
Being to her virtue clinching-blind┬░
No...
member poem of the day
New Year's Resolution.... odes versed in velvet spectral seams!
