Sonnet 441

The raven flies straight to a place unknown
Still his black soul well knows whereto it goes;
Perhaps so drawn by carnage fate has sown
Where death unto grim life rank fare bestows.
So then this symbol there of dark macabre
Brings thus unto the world a visage grim,
Stark images of ruin and corpses gnawed,
Tableaux of Hell in living light now limned.
A devil’s angel so beset on earth
As clever yet as any that gained flight,
Swoops down on hearts where blessed hope is dearth
And where no flower of joy may e’re see light.
Oh bird of doom leave now that graven shrine
Wherein but lies the dearest heart divine.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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