Prophecy, by Elinor Wylie

I think I’m going to start a new tradition where I post one of my favorite poems every Monday. To start off, here’s one by Elinor Wylie which has stuck with me ever since I first read it years ago.

Prophecy

I shall lie 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 bedspread 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.

 

~H

 

 

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