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Borderlands

Rating: 3.0

Through all the evening,
All the virginal long evening,
Down the blossomed aisle of April it is dread to walk alone;
For there the intangible is nigh, the lost is ever-during;
And who would suffer again beneath a too divine alluring,
Keen as the ancient drift of sleep on dying faces blown?

Yet in the valley,
At a turn of the orchard alley,
When a wild aroma touched me in the moist and moveless air,

Like breath indeed from out Thee, or as airy vesture round
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Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: desire
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ratnakar Mandlik 03 September 2019

Desire that may have been fulfilled in the borderland. Nice write. Enjoyed reading.

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