[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.