Louise Bogan





Packet of Letters

In the shut drawer, even now, they rave and grieve -
To be approached at times with the frightened tear; 
Their cold to be drawn away from, as one, at nightfall, 
Draws the cloak closer against the cold of the marsh. 

There, there, the thugs of the heart did murder. 
There, still in murderers' guise, two stand embraced, 
embalmed.