Thursday, May 16, 2013

Mourning Song - A Lemon Cohen CSi5M

When the weather washes down the walls
And the sad graffiti mark
And all the hearses of the poor
Are drawn up in the dark
The bodies of the mourners are touched by the thought
Of the graceful way that you lay
And the posters whose pasting came to naught
Display all the topics of day.

For don't vacate your coffin, or leave your heady tomb,
For nothing can greet you in the dawn
Like the slow tears of the Moon.

When the rain it splashes down the halls
Where courtly giraffes strode
And all the half chewed acacia leaves
Are stored in jars of spode
The zookeepers of poverty, sweep up the final straw
And bury the lost bones carefully
Where we found
The lion cub's claw.

So don't come from your jungle lair, to city canyon's grey
For the tangle of the vines is lost
In the tramlines of the day.

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