The Graveyard School
Life is no laughing matter. We entered crying and Melancholy marked us for her own. Our birth-day was the day we started dying.
Urn-shaped our souls, our fate to wander sighing where names grow weathered, angels droop in stone. Life is no laughing matter. We entered crying.
Sepulchral shades, the population lying under our feet are kindred to the bone. Our birth-day was the day we started dying.
What are our bodies? Houses putrefying, clay tenements we moulder in alone.
Life is no laughing matter. We entered crying.
What is our song? A night-piece amplifying owls in the yews, the universal groan.
Our birth-day was the day we started dying.
Your smile's a death-mask rictus. No denying what we among the tombs have ever known: Life is no laughing matter. We entered crying. Our birth-day was the day we started dying.
Frank Ormsby
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