Nero CaroZiv Poems
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Hills and dales of ancient land, bleak, barren and glaring
Where my thoughtless, happy hours beguiling childhood strayed,
How the sand with ages of patina on me is warring,
Howl, moan winds of the past above my tufted shade!
No more, gone the days I went out on an April morning
All alone, for my heart was high with the wind sigh
I was a child of the shining meadow, tulips on hill, and willow low in mourning
No cloud on vast blue heaven, just this sapphire eye of the sky.
Now in the windy winter flood of morning in rear
Longing lifted its weight from ...
A Child Winter Night
Wailing whirling wheeling winds
When shall you blow again
And let the momentous drops of little rain
Come down mossy rocks and on fields of vast terrain
Hush under the cloak of night the nightingale hides and no more sings
Come back howling winds of winter night
Shake the stature of every tree tall
Its leaves long had reddened to a point of fall