Crescentius
from the burial groundat old Copp’s Hilltwo clay-daubed ministers rise
floating from their earthen moundflitting through the red-bricked villefleeting in the moonlit skies
their shrouds of Cottonin breadth Increasewith the billowing gust
their faces forgottentheir breaths long ceasedtheir bones dust but spirits robust
beyond the lofty chasmsfather, son overtakefather-son towers
two new-bloomed phantasmsat last both awaketo smell their concrete flowers.
____________________________________________________________________________Michael Yashinsky ‘11 is a History and Literature concentrator living in Mather House.