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[poem of the week] : here lies a prisoner

Charlotte Mew, from The Rambling Sailor, 1929

Leave him: he’s quiet enough: and what matter
Out of his body or in, you can scatter
The frozen breath of his silenced soul, of his outraged soul to the winds that rave:
Quieter now than he used to be, but listening still to the magpie chatter
Over his grave.

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