The woman in the pointed hood
And cloak blue-gray like a pigeon's wing,
Whose orchard climbs to the balsam-wood,
Has done a cruel thing.
To her back door-step came a ghost,
A girl who had been ten years dead,
She stood by the granite hitching-post
And begged for a piece of bread.
Now why should I, who walk alone,
Who am ironical and proud,
Turn, when a woman casts a stone
At a beggar in a shroud?
I saw the dead girl cringe and whine,
And cower in the weeping air--
But, oh, she was no kin of mine,
And so I did not care!
I have a feeling that she did not care- then again how can a ghost eat?
A great poem, entertaining and beautifully penned in a lighter vein. Enjoyed reading. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Satirical poem........................10+++++++++++