#5
Thanks everyone.
This poem is more or less word play (though not without genuine feeling), a rework based on a poem by Yeats with same title -
The Pity of Love
By William Butler Yeats
A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold, wet winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing
Threaten the head that I love.
I found it interesting to rewrite the past masters' work by expressing my own feelings. Now my poem feels more right after I changed a few words. Sometimes searching for a right & accurate word in a poem can drive me insane.
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