Henry McCone
Henry McCone Poems
Crad'ling in your foster arms
The grave wherein I lie--
Hold high this tiny cross that is the all of me
That some within this hating world may see.
...
Evening--
purple shadows on the hills--
scattered lamps, like land-locked stars
That sparkle on the hillsides and down along the shore--
...
These--that were a moment past all blue and bright, are grey again
These fickle skies.
It seemed that suddenly the sun was filled up with pain
And closing up its eyes
...
The Best Poem Of Henry McCone
Foreign Hillside 'Neath This Foreign Sky
Crad'ling in your foster arms
The grave wherein I lie--
Hold high this tiny cross that is the all of me
That some within this hating world may see.
And--tell them how passionately I longed to live, how desperately
Wring from their hears my teardrops left unshed;
Be thou my living, now I am dead.
Ay, tell them my emptiness who chance to see
Ye last, last speech that doth remain to me.
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4/26/2024 1:42:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
