Time Who Blunts The Shocks Poem by james watkin

Time Who Blunts The Shocks



Time, who nurse-like, morn's curtain
In spreading apart
Slowly accommodates us;
To what, for shocks, at conscience
Send their fiery dart.

What this age begs more of, lit
More burningly perverse
Are thus less affected by.
As numb to, as yet asleep!
More deadly adverse!

Sunday, August 7, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: sin,modern
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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