here needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
I’ve been reading my Shakespeare(As I often do)
Aloud, to Paw, my cat/kitten
Black as the grave,
With one white mitten.
He usually sleeps.
But he would agree with Horatio, that:
“There needs no ghost, my Lord/
“Come from the grave, to tell us this.”
And Paw, as is Horatio, would be right.
But still, the wrecks of ships,
Gone down to their watery depths
In the preceding year,
Float in a line
Stern to bow
Across the mouth of the harbour.
I go out, and always watch
In the dark dark dark of the night,
As one year of wretched release
Slides into another.
What can I do for them,
Other than to acknowledge
Their passage.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
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