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*Hisses at skill* Bad poem, lol. |
| Silent are the morning bells The crisp, cool sleet of amber dawn The empty streets of partridge red Sad breaking, of fell curtain flown Who toils here in empty place? A laughter gaily flouting flit A personage of death’s design Above us now, and shedding light No children mock this ribald thing This grinning yellow smile This empty city left forlorn No soldiers came, no war repaid What once filled harkens now A black slate drawn once more A blank field ash and tar remade Like god’s own hand, descend in time Men of cooled wing and steel A passenger brought on high A landing never made with ease Pact sworn stood, it free to feast Called by name young child Its brother-followed fly It like its predecessor fell And left none, no more then root Empty buildings echo still Yellow skies to settle not Yellow lights in silent flash Litanies to god, forgotten |