George Parker Winship, Sr. with his family somewhere around 1924
A few months ago a tornado knocked a tree onto my grandmother and aunt's house and destroyed both the bedrooms. In tearing apart that part of the house, my family found a bunch of stuff they didn't even know existed. They let me go through this chest from the bottom of a closet and I lost some hours sifting it. I found this poem that my great grandfather George Parker Winship, Sr. wrote in 1922 and thought it was cool so I typed it out for all of you.
Suddenly I stopped,
Swung unto halting wonder
By the sultry fat orange moon
haunting slowly, like a Chinese dowager,
up through the grey blue haze of evening.
Thin light, streaming through mullioned windows,
Gleamed on the sheeted ice reflecting the castle,
And vine stars sparkled in the crystal air.
Cadaverous fingers of two naked elm trees
Scratched black ridges across the low glowing moon,
As in snow bleached cities, shivering beggars
Pluck at the richly stuffed robes of fine ladies
When they step from their cars to the warm drawing room.
G.P.W.
1 comment:
This is awesome.
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