Here you will find the Poem Poem - II of poet Henry Treece
Death walks through the mind's dark woods, Beautiful as aconite, A lily-flower in his pale hand And eyes like moonstones burning bright. Love walks down heart's corridors Singing for a crust of bread All the tales of laughing youth Who tomorrow will lie dead. Here two summer metaphors; For even on a sun-mad day Laughter breaks into salt tears, And grave is never far away.
