Artchil Daug

Blake's Night - Poem by Artchil Daug

The Moon galloped sleepy hills,
Black robe, purple and silver;
Dreams like lightning riding thrills
All in the mind, a quiver,
Thorns with pois'nous tips, none this soul equips.

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Rudyard Kipling


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Poem Edited: Wednesday, August 22, 2012

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