He was an evil thing to see—
   Of joy his mouth was desolate;
His body was a stunted tree,
   His eyes were pools of lust and hate.
Now silverly the linnet sings
   On leaves that from his temples start,
And gay the yellow crocus springs
   From the rich clod that was his heart.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (
Created April 5, 2001; not revised.