Discussion about this post

User's avatar
Johanna Cowie's avatar

A favorite middle school poem about the inescapable…

Dust

Agatha Morley

All her life

Grumbled at dust

Like a good wife.

Dust on a table,

Dust on a chair,

Dust on a mantel

She couldn’t bear.

She forgave faults

In man and child

But a dusty shelf

Would set her wild.

She bore with sin

Without protest,

But dust thoughts preyed

Upon her rest.

Agatha Morley

Is sleeping sound

Six feet under

The mouldy ground.

Six feet under

The earth she lies

With dust at her feet

And dust in her eyes.

-Sydney King Russell

Borrowed from Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle

Expand full comment
1 more comment...

No posts