Katharine Byrd


Rosemary - Poem by Katharine Byrd

Poor Ophelia,
Release your weeds
Throw them not into our faces.
Fling not your body
Or carelessly your soul
Into the slippery hands of Death.
I feel your pain
Your hopeless insanity.
But do not fret.
For it was meant
For your goodwill
And you’ll have no passage.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 29, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, July 20, 2010


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