|Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: I can Rhyme|
have crept back in time, disillusioned,
And seen myself grow and decay,
Like so many violets that withered,
I’ve seen in their hollowness beauty,
That never was wanton to stay.
A young and absurd world I lived in,
Another I live in but still,
In youth I had something of violets,
Who’s perfume is rotting and fowl,
Beneath this bubbling ill.