Vanity Fair- a poem by Tara Staunton
“A piteous crowd of devils To soft your blue eyes To see their sinful mirth Their indulgence in all proud majesty of greed” . A sweet whisper in mine ear Oh protector of me This vile destitution fills me with fear! The grey tear filled eye that ponders me, Sharply averted by kind squires glance. . He hurries me through, This forgotten city. Death hold’s their hands, but to drunk in Squalor to see even burning hells flame! . “Oh softly maid We are beckoned to green mans court I take you on to lake and forest And warm springs delight” . We rush fourth, to sweet elderflower gate Nature welcomes us lovers fair, Soft light and safety, from worlds grim vice. In his arms I fall, and curl, and sleep, Forever now in love, and nevermore to weep. .
