|
Not heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air delicious and dry, the air of ripe summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds, Waited, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may; Not these, O none...
|
|
Unaware such tragedy awaits Lives in a balance overweighed by fate The kiss of death so sweet and tender Four young bodies' spirits surrender What thoughts passed through each mind Were prayers uttered? Was there any time? The media hurries to get...
|
|
When the voices of children are heard on the green And whisp' rings are in the dale, The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind; My face turns green and pale. Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise; Your...
|
|
When will the stream be aweary of flowing Under my eye? When will the wind be aweary of blowing Over the sky? When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? When will the heart be aweary of beating? And nature die? Never, O, never, nothing will die;...
|
|
Powered by AlphaContent 3.0.4 © 2005-2008 - All rights reserved |
Home 
Poetry 
