An Unfrequented Lantern.

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Doomed slackly to a benumbed branch so barren,

Dangling in faith, I, the only unfrequented lantern.

No more bright tinges for eyes, but pallor for hue;

Burning up in winter, a colossal penance I pursue.

The knavish snow slants on my hoary shoulders,

Cloaking my spark with its lily-white gelid borders.

Withal I go- thawing soft, this frost-bound night…

Lighting the roll down of darkness, bilking my sight.

Jugging the hot ambers in me, whipping my core,

Maneuvering I am, for you to attain your shore.


Image courtesy: Google.

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Hues of Pallidity!

snow

Lily-white snow is bussing the branches so black;
Swaying in desire to beget the blushed glory back.
Colorings, slithering into the blueprints of paleness.
Will these hushed up hues ever whistle in brightness?
Aware are the dried twigs of their deadness inside:
Yet, fancying for the sprightliest springtime besides.
Disgraced not they, of their nakedness in the day:
But jubilating at the greenish gown, earning their way.


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