The meadows of the mind
Oh would, that we could find when called
The meadows of the mind
And brush them with the breeze of sighs
To swirl and spiral in our eyes
Oh would, that we could find when called
The meadows of the mind
At one, as one in solitude
Beneath a bronzen Sun-God’s gaze
Barefoot, cross the mid-warm soil
Wakeful dreams, abandoned toil
At one, as one in solitude
Beneath a bronzen Sun-God’s gaze
Oh would, that we could find at last
The pastures free from pain
The home that begs nowt in return
Yet salves that satisfying burn
Oh would, that we could find at last
The pastures free from pain
Oh would, that we could find when called
The meadows of the mind
Where every path is virgin fair
Where every fear will disappear
Comfort’s feathers grace the air
Lavender smiles from ear to ear
Oh would, that we could find when called
The meadows of the mind
comfort's feathers grace the air, good poem, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice imagery Dan, nice thoughts!