Sonnet: The Poison Laurel

Dear horizon—too sweet became the tears
From voices that cracked the sunrise—
That only the ill God hears
On the poison laurel He lies.
Dear moonrise—too soft is thy shine
For the lakes where drown
The babes of thy holy shrine—
The Hour of thy Silver Gown.
My heart beat in that light
To the canopy of that poison bed
Where my soul prayed to the sight
Of so divine the living dead.
And my soul to that god’s quiet tomb
Bleeds the dew of thy weeping bloom.