David Lewiston Sharpe Poems

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That kiss of greeting doubled as goodbye.
But when you sat beside me in the hall,
The cold worlds coalesced in one warm sigh,
Affirming for an instant this was all

Foreland Point

With sullen grandeur, a melted, frozen arm
Of out-stretched land rests coldly, tearfully,
Embraced by the cool, caressing, kissing sea
And revelling in its elemental charm;

Summer Skies

There is no finer junction in the spectrum
Than that abutment found of blue and green,
Not gold and silver’s marriage as electrum
Will ever be the equal, nor has it ever been.

At The City Gates

No war-machine or ram, nor Jericho-shouts and blasts
Will bring these city gates and walls to crumble down;
Though yet, says time, no proud eternal city lasts.