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Apostrophe To Nature

Rating: 2.8

O Sun! bright face aye undefiled;
O flowers i' the valley blooming wild;
Caverns, dim haunt of Solitude;
Perfume whereby one's step's beguiled
Deep, deep into the sombre wood;

O Sacred mounts that heavenward climb,
White as a temple-front, sublime;
Old oaks that centuries' might inherit
(Somewhat whereof I feel, what time

'Neath you I stand, endues my spirit);
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Geeta Radhakrishna Menon 05 October 2017

A pure poem penned by pure soul.

1 0 Reply
Margaret O Driscoll 08 February 2016

'Pure soul of nature', wonderful piece

2 0 Reply