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November ~ William Morris
‘Fair death of things that, living once, were fair;
Bright sign of loneliness too great for me,
Strange image of the dread eternity,
In whose void patience how can these have part,
These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart?’
‘Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?’ The Poor Ghost, Christina Rossetti. #BookWormGhost 🖼️ Aksel Johannessen, c.1920.
There Came a Day ~ Ted Hughes.
There came a day that caught the summer
Wrung its neck
Plucked it
And ate it.
Now what shall I do with the trees?
The day said, the day said.
Strip them bare, strip them bare.
Let´s see what is really there. 1/4 #BookWormSat