Explore "Kirkham's Find" by Mary Gaunt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ghosts! O breathing Beauty Give my frank word pardon! What if I--somehow, somewhere-- Pledged my soul to endless duty Many a time and oft? Be hard on Love--laid there?
Nay, blame grief that's fickle, Time that proves a traitor, Chance, change, all that purpose warps,-- Death who spares to thrust the sickle Laid Love low, through flowers which later Shroud the corpse!