By The Stream Of Durfort Poem by poppy miller

By The Stream of Durfort.

Just where the blue Amaryllis hides,
Crannied between that rocky pile;
‘Tis there most days the sad girl bides,
Her eyes and lips bereft of smiles.
Each day a dewy rose she brings
And sits upon the rock at morn;
She plucks the petals one by one and flings
Each to the slow lamenting stream, that's torn
Between the laughter of the bright new day
And love forsaken to this weeping child.
His babbling lilt he hides away
And sings instead, a lullaby mild.

©
10/2/2016 -