The Sorry Mound Of Calvary Poem by Robert Rorabeck
The Sorry Mound Of Calvary
Massive bends of yellow gold,
The incest of falling cupbearers, and the winter’s
Boiling,
The foals unfold and everything becomes less cherished:
The hills take ship,
And oaring trees pretend to make it up
The faithful resins of the cheering day who with all of
His angels in jubilee seems to be standing
Fully suited-
An arc, a leviathan sating his burnished liquors
Above the sorry mound of Calvary.
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4/25/2024 12:14:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
