Ghouls
All day the long cold fingers of the rain
Have pried at the gray tiles above the graves
Finishing the work of years in the drear fields,
Where coffins lie uncovered in the light
Of sulfurous mustard blooms. Here by the bank
The greedy water has uncovered bones
Shining, blue-white, wet in the biting wind.
Have pried at the gray tiles above the graves
Finishing the work of years in the drear fields,
Where coffins lie uncovered in the light
Of sulfurous mustard blooms. Here by the bank
The greedy water has uncovered bones
Shining, blue-white, wet in the biting wind.
