Paul's Corner: Poetry Month

Book Image: 
Blog Book Author: 
Mark Strand

THE DEAD

The graves grow deeper.
The dead are more dead each night.

Under the elms and the rain of leaves,
The graves grow deeper.

The dark folds of the wind
Cover the ground. The night is cold.

The leaves are swept against the stones.
The dead are more dead each night.

A starless dark embraces them.
Their faces dim.

We cannot remember them
Clearly enough.  We never will.

— Mark Strand