Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Weeds and Hyacinths
They yelled at her and spat in her face,
Messengers of turpitude threw insults,
Stripped her dignity and deprived her grace:
Well-meaning people from dubious cults.
But she neither lost faith nor confidence;
As her garden was trampled, her windows broken,
She still heard the music, the choral cadence;
Compassion, kindness facing acts of madmen.
She suffered humiliation and abuse;
When her man left her for an affluent bride
They treated her badly, as a useless refuse:
Life became a burden, a pitiful ride.
Still tender light can enter tart labyrinths,
Weeds may look nicer than fading hyacinths.
poem
by
Paul Hartal
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black