A Cento by Beverly Stock.
© Veniamin Skorodumov | Dreamstime.com
A dismal eye and a howling dog,
A ghostly silence, a river fog,
A byway deserted, dingy street
A glimmer to light life’s feeble feet.
A trembling step and a beaded brow,
“Oh where, oh where, shall I hasten now?”
No eye hath seen nor ever shall,
On, on in the gloom, to the still canal;
Hush, Hush, a murmur-a fearful pause-
A footfall--oh horror; a slam of doors--
A sinking down to former repose,
A strengthless effort, a feverish start,
A prostrate form and a broken heart.
This poem is a Cento – a blended part of the third and fourth stanzas of the poem, “Drink,” in the Public Domain by Lennox Amott.
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