"The Hawthorn Hath A Deathly Smell"

________________________________________________
Title:     "The Hawthorn Hath A Deathly Smell"
Author: Walter De la Mare [More Titles by De la Mare]

The flowers of the field
Have a sweet smell;
Meadowsweet, tansy, thyme,
And faint-heart pimpernel;
But sweeter even than these,
The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The Judgment Day.

An apple, a child, dust,
When falls the evening rain,
Wild brier's spiced leaves,
Breathe memories again;
With further memory fraught,
The silver of the may
Wreathed is with incense for
The Judgment Day.

Eyes of all loveliness--
Shadow of strange delight,
Even as a flower fades
Must thou from sight;
But oh, o'er thy grave's mound,
Till come the Judgment Day,
Wreathed shall with incense he
Thy sharp-thorned may.

[The end]
Walter De la Mare's poem: "The Hawthorn Hath A Deathly Smell"

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN