Stephen Vincent Benet
Pennsylvania / United States
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Portrait Of A Boy

Rating: 4.9

After the whipping he crawled into bed,
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
How funny uncle's hat had looked striped red!
He chuckled silently. The moon came, sweeping
A black, frayed rag of tattered cloud before
In scorning; very pure and pale she seemed,
Flooding his bed with radiance. On the floor
Fat motes danced. He sobbed, closed his eyes and dreamed.

Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson light

Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave's mouth
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7/20/2021 9:39:30 AM # 1.0.0.663