The Mould
1885-1919
No doubt this active will,
So bravely steeped in sun,
This will has vanquished Death
And foiled oblivion.
But this indifferent clay,
This fine experienced hand,
So quiet, and these thoughts
That all unfinished stand,
Feel death as though it were
A shadowy caress;
And win and wear a frail
Archaic wistfulness.
DayPoems Poem No. 1499
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1499.html">The Mould by Gladys Cromwell</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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