In The Bosky Wood Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
In The Bosky Wood
In the bosky wood
the feast of spring
is far now:
now too far
winter has just begun
and long days of frost await
and tempests threaten nights
cold the streets; rain
the blinding of the stars;
mists rising to strange lights.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
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9/19/2024 7:12:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
