Saturday, August 10, 2024

Thursday, June 27, 2024

MOLE

















ANDREW YOUNG ... A Dead Mole

Strong-shouldered mole,
That so much lived below the ground,
Dug, fought and loved, hunted and fed,
For you to raise a mound
Was as for us to make a hole;
What wonder now that being dead
Your body lies here stout and square
Buried within the blue vault of the air?

















     All but blind
        In his chambered hole
     Gropes for worms
        The four-clawed Mole.

     All but blind
        In the evening sky
     The hooded Bat
        Twirls softly by.

     All but blind
        In the burning day
     The Barn-Owl blunders
        On her way.

     And blind as are
        These three to me,
     So, blind to Some-one
        I must be.