Elinor Morton Wylie

(7 September 1885 – 16 December 1928 / Somerville, New Jersey)

Prophecy - Poem by Elinor Morton Wylie

I shall die hidden in a hut
In the middle of an alder wood,
With the back door blind and bolted shut,
And the front door locked for good.

I shall lie folded like a saint,
Lapped in a scented linen sheet,
On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint,
Narrow and cold and neat.

The midnight will be glassy black
Behind the panes, with wind about
To set his mouth against a crack
And blow the candle out.


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Read poems about / on: wind



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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