Today's art comes from Harry Clarke (1889 - 1931), an Irish book illustrator and stained-glass artist based in Dublin. He produced over 130 windows and did illustrations for works by such as Hans Christian Anderson, Charles Perrault, Goethe and Edgar Allen Poe. The above appeared in The Year's at the Spring: An Anthology of Recent Poetry to illustrate the poem, Black and White by H.H. Abbott. Here's mine, written prior to reading Abbott's poem, and the first stanza of Black and White. Bodied in bone by alan girling Who dwelt in that room once called your home? Who tended your hurt, a hurt bodied in bone? The road runs to the sky, like waters to the sea. At your feet cries a crow, sick of having to be. It’s not the storm that startles, the wind-bent trees. This walk began in a crib, the mournful ring of keys. Poles suspend the force that rushes to the grave; roam this darkened earth, seek release from the cave. For dreams do not lie to a cold white face— a car up ahead waits: wheels bereft of grace. What dwelt in that room once called your home, lurked in the corner, at the door, by the bed? Did it scorn your heart, the hurt bodied in bone? Black and White (link) by H.H. Abbott I met a man along the road To Withernsea; Was ever anything so dark, so pale As he? His hat, his clothes, his tie, his boots Were black as black Could be, And midst of all was a cold white face, And eyes that looked wearily. continued . . .
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How still, how chilling is this beautiful haunted poem.
A hurt bodied in bone....i like that line