Menu
Tuesday, October 12, 2010

A Fragment

TO---


Dear H---, it was you who laid it down
That up to Christmas we've no fogs in town;
And then you asked me, as I well remember,
What can the country offer in November?
To which I answer prospects, ne'er more fair,
Stream, wood and valley, seen through smokeless air;
And moon, where'er she ranges, viewed at will,
Or if chance-hidden, not by house—but hill;
And every star, for love on one to fix;
And deep, rich sunsets, between five and six,
That most convenient hour, just ere we dine,
And no bad prelude to wood fires and wine;
And trees, some stripped and some with lingering hues,
From which, at will, our moral we may choose;
And fifty things beside, that joy impart
To the quick fancy or the thoughtful heart.
E'en now I stood by a clear river's brim,
And saw red leaves like golden fishes swim—
John Kenyon
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

1/18/2021 1:12:01 AM # 1.0.0.396