My Soul

by The Cowl Editor on October 5, 2017


ornate carousel at dusk
Photo courtesy of

by Jonathan Coppe ’18


I passed tonight beside some trash

Within the nooks and crannies of a midnight street,

Remains of a festivity since passed,

A joy once in this space but now moved on.

Is not this space so like my soul,

This sometime temple of a distant joy,

Now only a wasteland for litter?


Or rather a spectacle, once bright and sweet

That shone and drew the smiling eyes of all?

The spectacle now demolished, cleared away,

The mixed, neglected refuse forms a scene

Meant only for the tragic souls of this world,

To see and feed their rambling melancholy.


Was all this meant when that poet said,

“My soul is an empty carousel at sunset?”