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A Song From A Sandhill

Rating: 2.8

Drip, drip, drip! It tinkles on the fly—
The pitiless outpouring of an overburdened sky:
Each drooping frond of pine has got a jewel at its tip—
First a twinkle, then a sprinkle, and a drip, drip, drip.

Drip, drip, drip! They must be shearing up on high.
Can't you see the snowy fleeces that are rolling, rolling by?
How many bales, I wonder, are they branding to the clip?
P'r'aps the Boss is keeping tally with this drip, drip, drip.

Drip, drip, drip! while the sodden branches sigh:
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Khairul Ahsan 28 September 2020

'First a twinkle, then a sprinkle, and a drip, drip, drip.' - Nice!

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Mahtab Bangalee 28 September 2020

Drip, drip, drip! the squatter wouldn't say ‘Thank God! ' so earnestly if he were camped in it to-day. 'Tis in at last: I knew it! there's a pool about my hip: Oh, 'tis maddening and sadd'ning, with its drip, drip, drip! ....beautiful song which are growing up like the beautiful devotional hymn; pleasure to read; beautiful poetic words weaving;

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Dr Antony Theodore 28 September 2020

Rain, rain, rain! and the day is nearly done: I wonder shall we see another rising of the sun? Has the sky shut down and stifled him; or will he come again And stop the cursed clatter of this rain, rain, rain? A great poem indeed. tony

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Savita Tyagi 28 September 2020

With sound of rain outside, wonderful to read this poem of lovely barn side imagery.

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